Heroes to Ghosts
by justalizardking
Summary: The story of how Chief Bogo, on the verge of a mental breakdown, fights his inner demons from a tragic past that comes back to haunt him.
1. Potholes

"… _and let's check weather updates with Robby. How's it looking out there, Robby?"_

 _"Thank you, Karen. So all afternoon, I've been tracking a low-pressure system beginning to enter the northwestern part of Zootopia. It appears to be a mild to moderate storm, but as expected, it should diminish upon hitting the outskirts of the city. Thanks to the polar climate of TundraTown and its nearby suburbs, the storm will hit rapid cold and wet conditions. This allows the creation of sleet and snow, which will cause it to break down rather quickly. Now take a look here: minute amounts of snow buildup will occur in the streets as you finish your commute home. Based on the storm's path, you should expect just under a quarter of an inch of snow towards the outskirts of town, whereas closer to downtown will receive just a light dusting. The city just issued a travel advisory for anyone that needs to commute through that area, so be careful driving on those roads; we all know how slippery it can get out there._

 _"Anyway, looking at the rest of the city, it should be a relatively average evening. Sahara Square will hit a low of seventy-six degrees, with a ten percent chance of a sandstorm towards the southern part thanks to the trade winds that blow in through the south. I'll keep you all advised, but if this system begins to pick up, be sure to carry a jacket to battle the sandstorm. The rest of Sahara Square will be relatively calm and dry. Here's my favorite part: for the first time in an entire week, I am happy to say there are no flash flood warnings plaguing the area! Yes, you heard that correctly. Thanks to start of the wet season in Savanna Central, which I'll discuss in a second, most of the thunderstorms in the area will be localized to their respective boroughs. Enjoy the dryness while it lasts!_

" _Moving on to Savanna Central, you can see throughout the borough that the start of the wet season is taking a toll on the temperatures. Rainfall in the area, still ongoing as I speak, is dropping the lows from the expected sixty-one degrees to a chilly fifty-four! The trade winds that I talked about earlier are contributing to this; as you can see, the temperatures drop the closer you get to downtown. Expected rainfalls are average for the rainy season. Around seven to eight inches should be expected for the folk towards the east. Anyone in the central to west parts of Savanna Central will get six to seven inches of rain tonight. Be very careful when driving home as well, folks. The risk of hydroplaning is always present when a rainstorm occurs. Watch out for potholes, and pay close attention to water buildup on the road. Assuming all goes well, you can see that this storm should clear out by early morning, and we will be back in the seventies by around noon. Now, for the Rainforest District, the dry season-'_

Chief Bogo heard the muffled voices of the television being abruptly cut off. Clawhauser, finishing up his evening shift, must have shut the TV off in his routine for heading home. Bogo, out of sight of the cheetah, subtly stepped out of his obscure corner and poked his head around the crook to get a glance inside the lobby of the police station. Indeed, the television hanging in the left part of the lobby was off, with the reflection of the florescent lights hanging above it being the only light visible on the screen. The bulbs, which were dimmed by the same cheetah earlier, were scattered about the lobby. They delivered an orange-yellow hue of light to the building, giving it a warm and welcoming feel – just how it should be. Due to the late hours, it was part of Clawhauser's duty to dim them for the night to conserve energy. The result was a relaxing and comforting work environment. Perhaps that was why the chief enjoyed working the late night shift. Not only did it serve as an opportunity to catch up on his work, it allowed the buffalo to work in peace and relaxation. Unfortunately for Bogo, however, his next opportunity to work the night shift won't occur for another three weeks. It seems that the buffalo can never catch a break.

Glancing to the right, at the concierge, he could see Clawhauser finishing yet _another_ donut. This one looked like a strawberry glazed, one of the cheetah's favorites. For a few seconds, the chief was amazed at how that fat, donut-loving cop hasn't collapsed from a cholesterol overdose yet. Then again, the chief shouldn't be surprised at all. The donuts Judy and Nick gifted him earlier have been disappearing, one by one, throughout the day. Last time Bogo checked, Clawhauser had consumed five-sixths of the dozen. Only the Boston Crème and the strawberry glazed remained in the box when he walked out the door a few minutes earlier. Clawhauser was the type of mammal who always operated under the _best for last_ kind of philosophy; those two must be his favorite types of donuts. Making a mental note of the cheetah's favorite donuts would be helpful with his birthday coming up in a few short weeks.

Bogo turned around and, out of sight, and went back to the corner he was in a few moments ago. It wasn't the prettiest of places; debris, small amounts of graffiti, and the smell of rotting wood garnished the area. However, it was good enough to give the chief privacy and isolation from anyone else. He took out an abnormally large cigar out of his pocket and lit its tip. The combustion of the tobacco leaves and herbs that were rolled up left an eerily calm orange glow and a faint crackling sound. Cigars were his remedies that set aside his stressful workdays. However, it was a secret he wanted to keep from the ZPD. Officers can use tobacco while on duty, but Bogo thought doing so would tarnish his reputation as a local hero and a mammal of power and leadership. In order to avoid being caught smoking, he only did so late at night and out of sight of any coworkers. The buffalo has never found cigars to be addictive, even though he only recently began to smoke them.

It only took one puff of smoke for Bogo to conclude that this particular cigar was by far one of the more unusual ones he has tried. It was imported from some sort of exotic tropical island, one of the ones that was a tongue-twister to try to pronounce. He bought it earlier that day while wandering around under the rooftops of the Grand Bizarre Market in Sahara Square. The vendor, who carried a heavy and paralleled accent with him, explained how it was a popular and flavorful cigar back in his homeland. To Bogo, however, it left a very bizarre and unexpected taste in his mouth. What was first an overwhelming taste of bitterness, which almost made him gag, slowly resolved to an almost sweet and rather refreshing mint flavor. The more he smoked it, the less bitter the cigar began to taste. It was a good remedy to help himself unwind from another stressful day. With his head in the clouds, he involuntarily inhaled an abnormally large intake of cigar smoke. Instead of lingering in his mouth, it managed to make its way down his trachea and into his lungs, an affair that nearly made him drop to his knees. Bogo spent the next minute or so coughing and hacking up any remedies of smoke in his system. By the time he was somewhat recovered, his felt like his lungs were on fire and his throat was completely dry. He took a deep breath of cool, fresh air to counteract the burning sensation in his lungs and to try and relax. It somewhat worked, but only a fresh glass of water would provide the relief he was seeking for.

The overcast clouds and the scattered raindrops have made the evening shift feel much more like the night shift he has always desired. His watch only read that it was eight thirty, but it felt much, much later than that. Squinting in the horizon, Bogo could see a very faint and hazy shade of greenish-brown hanging in the west. Any trace of sunlight that mixed with heavy smog and dark thunderclouds created an eerie backdrop that matched the mood of the buffalo. Yet ironically, Bogo felt like he was in some state of nirvana: one with nature.

Even though Bogo was sheltered from the rain with a jacket on, he was still quite chilly. Not even his thick layer of hair was enough to keep him warm. The weather felt more like forty-five degrees instead of the proclaimed fifty-four. He began to shiver, a clear indicator that he should seek refuge somewhere warm. The chief spent another minute smoking the cigar. Although the taste was beginning to grow on him and he spent good money on it, he figured that it was a cigar not worth saving. Bogo tossed it out onto the soaked cobblestone in front of him. As the falling raindrop sucked the life out of the embers that fed off of the tobacco and leaves, small smoke fumes rose from the lifeless butt. Glancing at his car that was across the parking lot, Bogo took out his keys and busted a small jog over to it.

Mildly wet, he was able to get into his vehicle without too much trouble. He set his wallet and phone aside in the passenger seat and started his car; or, at least, _tried_ to start it. For the third time this week, his old sedan refused to cooperate with him. He still recalls buying it ten years ago. Definitely a fixer-upper, but what better option did he have? He was living on welfare for three and a half years up to that point. The tainted red paint was starting to chip, the rims were rusty, and the rearview mirror was missing, but that was all he had. Better than nothing, right? Bogo figured that it must be the old, crappy battery that he never got to replacing. If he remembered correctly, then he changed the battery only once, many years ago. It would not be much of a surprise if it was finally starting to wear out.

Trying to keep his composure, the buffalo gave the engine a minute before trying to start it again. And again. _And again._ After attempting to boot the engine four separate times, he gave up in frustration. The last thing Bogo needed was to have his engine flooded. While sorting out his mind, Bogo focused his hearing to the raindrops from above strike the roof and windshield of his car.

 _Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap…._

A nearby lightning strike startled Bogo. It was the first sign of an electrical storm that entire evening; not even the weathermammal mentioned it on the news earlier. The chasing thunder soon rumbled past, which he not only heard, but both felt and _saw_. The vibration from the sound wave was strong enough to vibrate the side view mirrors on his car. Bogo estimated the lightning to be around two miles away by using a trick his brother taught him many, many years ago when he was a young'un. ' _What you do,'_ he recalled him saying, _'Is start counting to five when you see a bolt of lightning. One-Mississippi, Two-Mississippi, Three-Mississippi, and so on. If you get to Five-Mississippi and you don't hear the thunder, then it's more than a mile away. That's when you start counting to five again! Every five seconds, those sound waves travel about a mile.'_

 _'What is sound? Like, I know what it is, but what exactly is it made of?'_ a young and curious Bogo asked. Listening to his brother lecturing about almost anything was fascinating. He could listen to those conversations for hours upon hours.

' _Well, sport, sound is energy. You know what energy is, right?'_

' _Uh...kind of?'_

' _Energy, well, is all around us! Because of energy, you and I can move our hooves and heads. Because of energy, we are able to move around, play games, cook food, and do everything in our lives! Think of it like this: everything requires energy if wants to go somewhere or be something else. So when a bolt of lightning lights up the sky, its energy disturbs the air around it, and that's why sound is created! Sound is simply the disturbance of air around us. So what causes that disturbance?'_

' _Energy?'_

' _Exactly! If I wanted to talk to you, I would need to move my vocal chords_

 _and exhale – both of which require energy. In return, that energy comes out as words. Cool stuff, huh?'_

' _Yeah!'_

Bogo decided to give one more effort to start his car, with his brother's scientific thoughts in mind. ' _Everything requires energy if it wants to go somewhere or be something else…'_. The chief decided to cut power to all of the lights and electrical systems in his car, directing the unnecessary energy back to the engine that needed it the most. His stereo, windshield wipers, and all the lights in his car were all shut off as part of the operation. Still being cautious as to not flood the engine, he hesitantly tries one more time to start the ignition. Within a few seconds of this attempt, the engine finally roars to life. Bogo let out a huge sigh of relief. Had his sedan not started, then he would probably have to either call a tow truck or get a ride with Clawhauser; both of which were very bad options for him. There was no time to think about what could have happened, though. The car started! That's all that matters now. Without wasting any more time, he navigated his sedan out of the Precinct One station and started the journey home. The only thing that now lingered within his mind was what the weathermammal said earlier.

 _Gotta watch out for the potholes_ , he reminded himself.


	2. The Umbrella

"Hey, can you pass me the licorice?" asked Judy.

"Yeah, just give me a sec…uh jeez, where did I put it?"

It was quite dark in the apartment, with Judy's laptop being the only thing that illuminated the room. Blind as a bat, Nick slapped his paw around him, hoping that by chance it would eventually strike the candy box. Each attempt, however, was fruitless and he only hit sheets.

"Here, pause the movie for just a sec," he yawned while he stretched out his arms. Judy tapped the space bar just as Nick dragged himself off of the bed. Although foxes have well-respected night vision, the light illuminating from the laptop screen made it difficult to see anything in the room. The only way he would be able to find anything in the poorly-lit room would be to turn a light on. He began to make his way towards a lamp that sat on Judy's desk. He cautiously made his way over, being careful to not stumble or trip on anything. Just a couple of feet from reaching his destination, his foot hit a lightweight box that was lying on the floor.

"Wait, I might have found it," he said while picking it up. It felt like the right size and shape, but continued to carry it to the desk anyway. It would be best to confirm that he was indeed holding the candy and not a semi-full tissue box. Upon arrival, he scrabbled with the light switch, eventually turning it on.

"Bingo," he mumbled. After confirming his suspicions, Nick turned off the lamp on the desk. Before jumping back onto the bed, he gave himself a few seconds to allow his eyes to readjust to the dark. Once he was able to make out the outline of the bed, Nick used his powerful legs and leaped onto the bed, right next to Judy. He contemplated about playing hard-to-get with the sweets, but reasoned that it would be more polite and respectful if he just gently gave it to her. He passed them to Judy, while simultaneously hitting the space bar to resume the movie the two were watching together.

"You're welcome," he said in a playful and mocking tone.

Judy chucked, "Thank you." She leaned her head against Nick's left arm, using it as her own personal pillow.

"I was just joking, Carrots! No need to thank me! If anything, I should be the one thanking you for inviting me up here chill for a little while."

"Yeah, I reckon so. Just warning you, however, I will keep you up here as long as that storm is still out there!"

Nick took another glance out the apartment window. The dim and orange-ish city lights outside her window were vaguely able to reveal that the rainstorm that began quite a while ago was showing no signs of stopping. Whatever portion of space time that the lights were able to reveal was filled by rain droplets, each of whom whizzed by in milliseconds. Although he could see clearly see evidence of rainfall, it would be an impossible task to pinpoint and follow one single raindrop once he caught sight of it.

"Ahhh, so you're holding me hostage now, yeah? You know, I always assumed you bunnies were supposed deliver the finest hospitality to houseguests, not to imprison them!"

"Well then, you assumed incorrectly, weirdo. I'm not going let you walk home in this kind of weather," she exclaimed. "Whether you like it or not."

"Ha, you wish, fluff! Luckily for you, I brought an umbrella with me just in case," he said before pointing to what appeared to be an empty corner next to the front door. It was difficult to see anything in the dark.

"…or at least I thought I brought one? Pause the movie again."

Judy chuckled. "You know how funny it'd be if you actually forgot an umbrella, right?"

"No, no, no…this is serious, Carrots. There is no way I'm walking home in that rain."

He leaned over and tapped the space bar, pausing the movie. Stumbling out of bed, Nick got the idea to close the laptop screen, which would plunge the entire apartment into darkness. He regained his composure, and executed his plan.

"Hey, what are you doing? I can't see a single thing!" complained Judy.

"Sorry, it'll just be for a second. I can't see in the dark with that laptop screen screwing up my night vision," replied Nick as he easily navigated himself to the light switch by the front door, "you can turn it back on now if you wish. Oh, and shield your eyes."

Nick, foolish enough to not cover his own eyes, flicked on the switch a couple of seconds later. The sudden change in light made him temporarily go blind. As if he were playing a game of hide and seek, Nick had to shield his eyes in darkness so they could adjust. Several seconds after doing so, he scanned the apartment, especially the corner where he swore he left the umbrella.

"W-where the heck is it…," he mumbled. "Hey Carrots, do you see it anywhere?"

"What, the umbrella?"

"That's right. It's black with a few red stripes. Now am I just blind, or is it really not here?"

The rabbit scanned the room, object by object, looking for anything that even remotely matched the description Nick gave her. Everything from her Gazelle poster to the alarm clock on her desk were among the things she scanned in search for the umbrella. In the end, it was never found. Not in any corner, no drawer, or behind any chair.

"How is this possible…I could have sworn that I brought it with me!"

"Did you leave it somewhere? Perhaps is it at some shop you were at earlier today?"

Digging through his memory archive, Nick could remember recall the time where he was in a small corner store, just a few hours ago while he was on his way to Judy's apartment. He remembered carrying the umbrella with him, just in case the dark and overcast skies above him were to begin spitting raindrops.

As a matter of fact, it was at that very corner store that Nick purchased the cheesy comedy they were screening, along with a couple bags of microwaveable popcorn, licorice, trail mix, and a small bushel of carrots. The cornucopia of treats would definitely be enough to satisfy the both of them. Carrying the umbrella around with him was a real pain, however. He laid it on the ground at any chance he could since it wouldn't fit in his cart. Then he was struck with what happened.

It was at checkout. He sat the umbrella down on the floor next to him to unload the groceries in his cart. But did he carry it out with him? He couldn't have; with groceries in both hands, there would have been no way he would have been able to carry it. The umbrella must still be at the corner store.

"Damn it," mumbled Nick. "I guess I must have left it at the corner store on my way here."

"Bummer," Judy commented sarcastically. "Guess you'll have to stay here until that rain clears, huh?"

"Ugh. Fine. You win this time, rabbit. But only until the rain clears up. No sooner, no later. Got it?"

"Got it. Now get over here," she said while tapping the spot next to her, "We have a movie to finish!"

Nick turned off the light and glided his way back to the bed.

The two fell silent as they sunk their teeth into their snacks and viewed the film. For some odd reason, Nick felt ashamed of what this evening came down to. Watching a movie, although relaxing and somewhat enjoyable, was the last thing he wanted to do. But with the storm rolling in earlier, Nick figured going out of the apartment wouldn't be an option whatsoever. No matter where they would go or what they would do, the rain would interfere with his idea of a nice evening. Picnic in the park? Nope. Amusement park? No way. Anything that requires setting foot in the rain? By no means! There were only bad options; and this was the best bad option he had. Buying a few sweets, a chick-flick he knew Judy would enjoy, and a little relaxation for the evening, he only hoped that it would be satisfactory. After all, she did tell him earlier that anything would be fine by her.

From the moment he put the CD in, Nick criticized the movie left to right in his head. He knew this would be a wrist-slitter the moment he bought it. A cliché romantic comedy about a couple of lemurs who supposedly "fell in love with each other at first sight"? Please. And now the lemur's cheating on a police officer? Even the mice in the Little Rodentia borough would find this cheesy. However, Judy did seem to enjoy it, which was a big relief for him. After all, the only thing he wanted to do was make her happy.

Nick did take humor, however, during a scene in the movie where the police officer's reaction to the affair goes absolutely haywire. The temper-tantrum that the lemur threw was the first time the two were laughing simultaneously, and Nick's first chuckle throughout the feature. Not because the plotline was funny, but because of how _horrible_ the acting was.

"Say, since when did Buffalo Butt get a roll in a movie? His acting skills are _on point!_ Good for him!" Nick joked.

Judy chuckled and hit his arm, enjoying his mild humor.

"But seriously, what has been up with him? Like, have you recently noticed that he has been somewhat…I don't know, down? Depressed? Moody?" he added.

He made an excellent observation, one she also began to notice herself. The chief has been quite deprived of energy, spirit, and motivation within the past couple of weeks. He has been much quieter during roll call, his attitude was way out of line, and his paperwork has been quite sluggish and messy. Yesterday morning is when he seemed at an all-time low.

Bogo was twelve minutes late to roll call. Before he finally dragged himself in, Higgins called his phone four separate times, only to be left with his voicemail. The chief was seldom late. Rumors of a car crash, an illness, and/or a family emergency plagued the room for those twelve confusing minutes. If he did not show up by a quarter past the hour, it would be the first time in Zootopia's history that a chief would be written up for an absence. Such an incident would put a huge dent in the chief's legacy.

When the buffalo finally walked in, it took the whole room by surprise. Conversations quickly diminished and everyone reordered themselves. Despite being in the front row of the room, which is a good seven feet from the podium, Judy was able to smell the distinct scent of whiskey coming from the chief's body. He looked absolutely withered. Bags hung heavy over his eyes, his uniform was wrinkly and unprofessional, his arms would shake when he tried to move them, and she could notice he had a case of the hiccups. Trying to suppress them as much as possible, Bogo would take deep breaths to counteract the anomaly.

His voice was arguably even worse. The slurred speech that left his mouth would contained mispronounced vocabulary; even some of the simplest names he called out were difficult to understand. He would even go on to lecture about how little effort was being made to protect the city. What really took Judy and Nick by surprise, however, was how towards the end of the nightmare, he began criticizing certain officers for nonsensical reasons. The victims, which included Nick a fox, were incredibly disrespectful to both him and his workers. The incident horrified Judy. In the year and a half she has worked here, never before has Bogo, let alone any officer, show up to work under the influence of alcohol.

The last time Judy heard of him that day was when city hall got involved and sent him home with a doctor's note. _Apparently_ he was sick with the stomach flu. Apparently…

"I don't know…I heard he was getting sick, but I don't believe it for a second. Perhaps he's going through something?" she said while pausing the movie again.

"Well, maybe. It's hard to tell. Did you notice he seemed a little bit… _tipsy_?"

"Yes! I could smell alcohol coming from him! That's the main reason why I think that the so-called 'stomach flu' excuse is complete baloney!"

"Pretty much everyone at the station is thinking the same thing too. Clawhauser, Delgado, and Francine have been spreading the word. Heck, perhaps city hall just wanted to cover his tracks with a subpar explanation to his behavior."

"Why would a smart guy like him do something so stupid like that?"

"It's a good question Jude. We may never know. My bet is that Buffalo Butt is in hot water for what happened; probably got a two-hour lecture from city officials as to why he should never be pulling off stuff like that. For all I can say, he's probably getting that same crap that you got when you nearly lost your job in the Rainforest District. Oh yes, which was also that time that I saved your sorry little butt from going back to the carrot farm!"

"Oh, stop it, you! Hey listen, could you pass me the, uh, the trail mix? I can see it; it's over there by your foot," she chucked while pointing at the goods.

Nick tossed her the bag. Despite the poorly-lit room, Judy could easily notice that there were only a few black pellets sitting in the bottom of it. Raisins! The fox took all of nuts and chocolate, her favorite parts, and left her with raisins. Her least favorite part.

"HEY! You know I hate raisins!" she shouted.

"It's called a hustle, sweetheart. If you wanted the peanuts and Z&Zs, you should have asked half an hour ago!"

"Well, if you wanna play that game, then fine!" Judy, still holding the licorice that Nick gave her earlier, picked out all of the red strings for herself, only saving the black ones for the untrustworthy fox.

"Good thing I'm going to be eating all the red licorice. 'Cause I know you just _love_ black licorice, don't you, Nicky?"

"Touché…" chuckled the fox.

Judy found herself once again using Nick's arm as a pillow as they refocused their attention to the laptop. He figured that his fur was much more comfortable than the brick wall that they were leaning against. His shoulders were starting to get a little sore themselves from leaning against the bricks. He took the pillow that was sitting next to her and used it to support his back. Amidst doing so, he wrapped his arm around the rabbit, who was now snuggling into his chest. The two settled back and watched the rest of the cheesy blockbuster. He could feel her excitement whenever Gazelle waltzed into frame. Not only would her muscles tense up, but if he was sitting perfectly still, then he could hear her heartrate skyrocket. It was because of that very pop star that he chose that movie right off the shelf. Apparently it worked, because she was laughing, smiling, and laid-back.

Nick glanced out the window. He wasn't sure if perhaps his angle was off, or if his mind was imagining things, but it appeared as if the rain had settled down to just a few sprinkles. Since Judy was to keep him until the rain stopped, Nick had the freedom and privilege to leave whenever he desired. But because the rabbit really seemed to enjoy his company, he felt obligated to sit out the rest of the movie.

Without warning, Nick felt an unexpected spell of sleepiness. It didn't surprise him; with a hard day's work behind him, a boring movie, and a rather comfortable position he was in, it was inevitable that he would start to get tired eventually. In an effort to keep himself awake, Nick began to rhythmically tap his foot against the bed. By doing this, he could focus his attention on something, preventing his mind from drifting off to sleep. The disadvantage was that he was not absorbing anything that the movie was trying to tell him. His mind was just simply too fogged. This foot-tapping strategy kept him awake for another ten minutes or so, but eventually, his mind would drift. He was startled awake a few times later on through the night. The first time, it was because Judy was readjusting herself to get in a more comfortable position. The second and third times, various sounds form the movie woke him up. Even pinching himself, almost to the point where he was bleeding, would still not keep him awake. Nick may have won a few battles, but was losing the war. After another fifteen minutes or so, his mind was shutting down for the night. The last things he heard before falling asleep was the laughter and giggles of his rabbit still enjoying the movie.


	3. Pancakes (Part I)

Nick, peacefully curled up, was sleeping like a log. With his tail curled up around his face and his head tucked into his body, the fox was in a state of bliss. As the sun rose, golden rays of sunlight spilled into the studio, delivering warmth and peace along with them. It was stuffy, cozy, and rather comfortable where he was sleeping. Eventually, the sunlight stirred Nick awake. Although he was woken up gently by nature, his eyes remained closed; enjoying a few more minutes of rest on his day off was the only thing he could ask for. What Nick found odd, however, was that this was the first time in perhaps years that he was roused awake by sunlight. It was quite a special experience; there was nothing like it. Allowing Mother Nature to wake him naturally with both warmth and sunlight, was a blessing that Nick could get used to. However, all good things must come to an end: the heat slowly was beginning to grow uncomfortable, which in turn made him grow foggy and unpleasantly drowsy. Nick let out a lousy yawn and stretched his arms and legs upwards, expecting to feel a small and furry bunny while doing so. Initially, he didn't feel anything; stretching his arms and legs out to the side didn't render anything either. He opened his crusty eyes, and had to rub them for a little bit to rid the sleep in his eyes.

' _Where's Judy?'_ Nick asked himself. A quick scan of the apartment bared no sign of her whatsoever. Just like the missing umbrella he thought he had last night, she was nowhere to be seen in the studio. Continuing to survey his surroundings, Nick realized that her laptop was back on the desk, right where it belongs. None of the goodies they munched on last night were strewed across the floor either. Nick noticed that the half of the carrots he gave her last night were set neatly on the desk alongside an unopened bag of popcorn kernels. The trash can, which sat just a few feet from the main door, was filled to the rim with empty boxes and bits of foot. Including the black licorice and the raisins. Clearly, she must have woken up well before he did. What baffled Nick was how he was able to sleep through her morning-pick up. She was not only a dumb bunny, but also a sly and sneaky rabbit. For all Nick knew, she could be part fox.

Highly unlikely, but humorous to think about.

Nick figured that she must have gotten up at least thirty minutes ago to get the chores. That would be early enough to not only clean up the place, but leave him alone in her apartment for some reason. But why would she leave, especially without his knowledge? She must trust him quite a bit to leave him in her apartment, especially with her purse, laptop, and iPawd sitting in the desk right in front of him. Puzzled, Nick noticed what looked like some kind of handwritten note, with a pen resting on top of it, sitting neatly on top of the laptop. He must have missed it the first time he scanned the room. Slowly getting out of bed, the fox draggled himself towards the desk to read what the note said, which could have been anything. She may have been called into work early. Her parents may be in town. A family emergency might be taking place. It would be a mystery until Nick read the note.

Nick:

Went out to get some ingredients for a little breakfast. I'll be back at around nine!

With love,

-Judy

Nick didn't really know how to react. Did she just assume that he would be willing and able to have breakfast with her? She somehow knew that he wouldn't be doing anything with his family, friends, or Finnick? And even if she somehow knew that he would be available, how would she know what kind of food he likes? He has never told her that he hates French Toast? Is she aware that he has a peanut allergy? He tried to dismiss the downbeat notions. Waltzing back to the bed, he put another pillow against the brick wall and sat up, listening to the gentle sounds of the city waking up. Cars would roll on by, at around twenty cars per minute or so (according to his brain's clock). The irritating, high-pitched sounds of screeching brakes would occasionally echo through the streets. A few horn blasts from road-raged drivers (most likely racoons, he figured) acted as a melody for the peaceful song that was being created by Zootopia.

Nick looked over at the clock sitting on the windowsill. Eight fifty-one. If Little Miss "Try Everything" was truly going to be back at around nine, he would still have a few minutes to himself. He thought about using that time to reflect on the bizarre dream he had last night – one that he can remember in unusually high detail.

It began with the fox, wearing a sharp and luxurious tuxedo, walking into the famous Palm Oasis Casino in the middle of Sahara Square. He was walking alongside Judy, who was wearing a beautiful, lavish purple dress. Hoping for a fun-filled evening, he led her to the poker tables to play his favorite card game: Texas Hold'em. Nick was a relatively lucky fox; he got powerful hands quite often. Combined with his expert yet sly poker face and tell tactics, Nick could not only invest several hundred dollars into one hand; he could also put other animals' _fear_ in the pot. Being a fox has its benefits.

Before the two joined a table that was about to begin, Nick recalled Judy backing out at the last minute, choosing to spectate the match instead of joining in. She justified that she was never into gambling and wished to not get involved. They decided to sit at the right-hand side of the table, with Judy bookending the table. Nick could recall the faces of four others at the table (all to the left of him): Mr. Big, Clawhauser, Mayor Lionheart, and finally Chief Bogo (respectively), sitting directly in front of him.

' _In poker, you never play your hand,'_ his mother once taught him, ' _You play against the animal across from you'_.

Completing the set of familiar faces, Emmitt Otterton, out of all animals, was the dealer.

" _Each of you have a buy-in of one thousand dollars, with a five-hundred dollar rebuy if things go south,"_ said the otter. _"Now…"_

All of a sudden, Nick's memory involuntarily blacked out for a moment. The dream was slowly slipping from his mind; in order to recall memories of it, he had to concentrate. Unfortunately for Nick, he wasn't very good at it. So instead of recalling what happened as the tournament began, he recollected another scene in the dream, one that he could distinctly remember.

With an acceptable number of chips at his disposal, it was Nick's turn to be the big blind. Emmitt expertly began dealing everyone their two cards. Each card, with the design of a magnificent orange and green palm tree, glided across the table like butter. It appeared as if the cards had the energy to continue sliding forever; the cards' momentum, however, would cease completely upon coming in contact with the players' paws.

All Nick needed was a quick glance at his cards to see what he had: a six of hearts and a seven of diamonds. The seasoned poker player he his, Nick began to imagine all of the possible hands he could create with just his two cards. Anything from a straight flush to a pair ran through his head. Upon reviewing his opportunities, Nick rested his cards, face down, back on the table.

The sly fox knew how to spot a tell. Glancing around the table, he began looking for any information that the other players would involuntarily give him. Are any of them tinkering with objects? What are their eyes doing? What will their voices sound like? A brief inspection revealed that Bogo was the only mammal who did not seem to have a poker face. Not only were his eyes shifting from left to right, but he found himself fiddling with a twenty-five-dollar chip. Nick took note of his behavior as the match began with the pre-flop. No one in the game made a bet, and the flop began with the seven of spades, four of spades, and a six of clubs.

' _Two pair, seven high,'_ Nick thought to himself. ' _A possible full house._ ' Keeping his composure here would be critical. Any of the animals at the table were capable of spotting even the subtlest of tells. With a face of stone, the fox placed a bet of twenty-five dollars, carefully inspecting the faces of the other players while doing so. The reactions at the table were subtle and went by nearly unnoticed. Each animal at the table called, except for Mr. Big, who folded. Nick wasn't all surprised; the artic shrew was bleeding chips, and probably wouldn't last much longer than a few more hands. He needed to conserve as much money as he could.

The turn revealed the three of spades, an insignificant card for Nick. Scanning the table, he thought about the possibility of someone getting a flush of spades. Even more concerning was the possibility of someone receiving a straight flush, which would knock his full house out of the water. The poker faces at the table remained as undisturbed as his: still as statues. Clawhouser checked, still cool as a cucumber. ' _How ironic,'_ Nick thought, _"that an energetic cheetah like him would act so collective_."

Lionheart also hesitantly checked, which suggested to Nick that he may have a weak hand. The lion likely won't be a concern for him.

However, Chief Bogo surprised the entire table by placing one hundred dollars in the pot. Each pair of eyes at the table, including Judy's, widened in surprise. Nick knew better, however. Recalling the buffalo's tell earlier, Nick had reason to believe that he was bluffing. It would make sense; after all, Nick has gotten to know Bogo the past several months as a police officer.

"Call," commented Nick as he put in his one hundred dollars. Bogo's bluff seemed to scare off the other two players, as both Clawhouser and Lionheart folded without even blinking. The atmosphere was weighing down on Nick, despite him trying to keep his posture.

"Finally, the river," Emmitt uttered, while revealing the last card: A six of spades. As usual, Nick's tranquil body acted per standard poker playing. However, underneath, his heart skipped a beat upon realizing that he had the full house that he had hoped for earlier. Nick also noticed, however, that the community cards could also reveal the straight flush that he hoped would not occur. Mathematically, Nick knew that the buffalo had a one in around thirty-five thousand chance of being dealt such a powerful hand. Those kinds of odds would not prevent him from winning this hand. A full house was a very powerful hand on its own, and one that normally wins these kinds of rounds.

"Uh…I'm all in. Seventeen hundred," he said, shoving dozens upon the dozens of chips in front of him towards the pot. The stakes drew the attention of a nearby table that heard Nick's bet. Bogo, who was studying Nick's face after placing such a bet, called his bet. The pot, which was now a huge pile of scattered plastic chips, was summed to over three thousand dollars. Such a round caught the attention not only the adjacent table, but of several other faces around the casino. Looking around, Nick realized most of the animals that gathered around him were yet again familiar faces: Higgins, Finnick, and Bellwether to name a few.

" _Alright, gentlemammals, showdown. Show me your cards."_

The fox proudly presented his full house, seven high, to the table and the small audience, which aroused a small round of applause. Glancing over at Bogo, a mild worry began to grow on him: the chief was _still_ staring into his soul, not moving a single muscle the past several second. That's when the spotlight turned to him.

Nick became increasingly frustrated yet again as the dream began to slowly drift away from his memory; this time for good. The more he tried to think about what the buffalo was going to reveal, the less he could remember. Nothing that Bogo said, revealed, or did could be recalled from his memory. Not a single subsequent event could be recalled from the dream. Eventually, it slipped away completely from his memory; there was little hope and little chance that he could revive it.

As annoying as it was, Nick dismissed the complications. After all, it was just a dream! He has had his fare share of cliffhanger dreams. Vacations, birthday presents, and dream houses were all just products of his imagination. Instead of focusing on his mind, Nick redirected his attention to the tasks ahead of him. He knew that Judy needed to work a twelve to eight shift later today, but since he had the day off, the fox had the privilege to run errands in town and to catch up on paperwork from the station.

While in the middle of these thoughts, Nick heard the creaking of the old floorboards in the hallway outside. That sound alone was enough to refocus him to reality and not to his mind. A few seconds later, he heard the sound of a key trying to slide its way into the keyhole. It was initially the sound of a few indistinct taps of metal against metal. Finally, it resolved to the door handle rotating to the right and slowly opening. Glancing over his shoulder, Nick saw Judy in the doorway, with her arms wrapped around several paper bags filled with groceries. Through a small sliver between the bags, Judy could see Nick sitting on her bed.

"Well good morning, sleepy head!" she exclaimed.

"That's my name! Whatcha up to, fluff butt?"

"Ah, well, just getting a few groceries to stock up on. Didn't you see my note?"

"Oh, yeah, I saw it. So what do you mean by ' _breakfast_ '?" he asked, stressing the syllables on the last word.

"Well…I figured that since you ended up spending the night, I thought that we could fix ourselves a little breakfast before I head out to work! I got ingredients for blueberry pancakes! Your favorite!"

Nick could see her smile glow yet again. He could see how excited the little rabbit was about having breakfast with him. She clearly gave the idea a lot of thought and truly wanted him to stay for a little while longer. Although he appreciated the nice gesture, for some reason he was still skeptical about the whole idea.

For the past few months, Judy has been awfully flirtatious and playful with Nick, as if she wanted to share a romantic relationship with the fox. However, she still didn't seem to get the idea that Nick simply wanted a platonic relationship; nothing more, nothing less. To him, it felt like Judy was trying to drag them together, almost by force, which was something that Nick just could not accept. All his hints, his motives, his words: they didn't seem to stick with her. Yet he felt like if he had to be clear and direct with her, then he may lose his best friend. The only one who has trusted him so much.

Nick's heart was then overridden by his logical mind. It shouldn't matter what one animal feels. If he didn't feel comfortable being in such a relationship, then not saying anything will make it much worse. Not just for him, but for her as well. The only way he can level the playing field would be to talk with her about it. And breakfast, although it felt like a trap, would be a good time to do so.

"Alright," he eventually said, "let's get cooking!"


	4. Pancakes (Part II)

"Twelve pancakes?! For just the two of us?"

"Yeah! What, is that too much for you?"

"It's way too much, Carrots! There is no way that I could shove that much food down my throat."

"Stop being so naïve, Nick. I've seen you eat your own weight in tofu!"

"Okay, well first off, if you're referring to that tofu eating contest a few weeks ago, then you should recall I only managed to squeeze down, like, four pounds before or something. And sorry to disappoint you, but I don't weigh four pounds. Secondly, just think about the math here: I'm hungry enough for I'd say, around five pancakes; six at most. _At most!_ And because of your fun-sized body, I would be quite surprised if you could fit two regular-sized ones in there."

The sharp and sour voice that departed Nick's lips was quite the opposite of what it was last night. Compared to the sugar lips that he had back then, Nick's words cut through Judy like razor blades. She was startled and somewhat surprised, but didn't want to make too much out of it.

"Uh…Are you okay, Nick?"

"I'm fine. How come?"

How would Judy approach this? ' _Oh, I don't know, because it's kind of rude to treat your best friend like a dick!'_ Or perhaps, ' _Gee, great question! I think it's more directed towards you. How come you're being rude towards me?_ '

Well…it's just that…," Judy said, tripping over her words. Translating her thoughts into words was much more difficult than she anticipated. She didn't want to hurt his feelings, but likewise she didn't want her feelings to go unnoticed. Perhaps this would be a conversation that was best saved for later.

"It's…Never mind. Lost my train of thought."

"M'kay."

Judy cleared her throat. "Alright, let's get to work! So I have a few kitchen utensils sitting in a cabinet next to the microwave. If I take them out, would you mind taking a look at the directions on the pancake box? I'll need to know how many cup of water we'll need to make a dozen."

Nick let out a sharp breath as he walked over to the doorway and started shifting through the groceries. "Carrots, can't we just do with seven pancakes? It'd be a waste to cook that much food, only to end up eating maybe half of the damn pancakes!"

"Well, perhaps if we do make twelve, I'll let you take home the leftovers! We don't have to eat them all this morning, you know."

Nick turned his head back towards the rabbit, disgusted by her response. "Yeah, I know. However, I also know that I seldom eat leftover food, alright! It gets moldy. It, it's disgusting! If you don't eat it within the first few hours, then it'll start to taste like rubber! C'mon, Jude. You've known me for, what, like a year or something? Maybe a little less? Regardless, you should know by now that I don't voluntarily take leftovers home. Geesh!"

"Jeez, sorry for being too nice!" she barked.

Nick snapped his head back around and continued searching for the batter mix, eventually finding it tucked neatly in a bag with a couple boxes of blueberries and a loaf of bread. While searching for the directions, he heard Judy let out a disappointing sigh while she walked towards the cupboard. As if it was a cry for help. All of a sudden, Nick felt a sharp lump swell up in his throat, as if some kind of pebble was lodged in there. Perhaps he was taking this plan one step too far. She doesn't deserve to be treated like a secondhand friend because she _likes_ him. His heart felt violated by a bleak feeling of remorse. If she never picked up on any platonic queues beforehand, why should this much more aggressive, "clear and simple" attempt be any different? Perhaps formulating plans on the spot to diverge her romantic interests away from him was not such a good idea after all. The only way to get out of this alive would be to talk it out with her. Just as he originally thought. Recollecting himself, Nick took a deep breath.

"Alright, it's going to be four cups of water for a dozen cakes. I'll measure out the blueberries and batter if you get the water," Nick negotiated in a much calmer and warmer tone.

Judy looked at him with a discerning and concerned look. She looked hurt on the inside. Nick felt another surge of guilt overwhelm him.

"Alright. You'll want to warm the griddle up, too," she softly murmured. "It takes a while for it to heat up."

Preparing and cooking all twelve pancakes should take only thirty-five minutes or so, but because of the silence that spoke louder than words, it drained several hours of concentration, energy, and sanity from Nick's cranium while the two prepared the blueberry pancake batter. If only he had been smart enough to not be so confrontational towards her, then this upcoming conversation would flow much more smoothly. Nick felt sick to his stomach.

Once the sticky, gooey batter was finished, the two would take turns pouring and then cooking the four sets of three pancakes on the small griddle that sat on the floor of the apartment. Both animals would have to either kneel or sit down in order to cook with ease. Each time Nick sat down to prepare his three, Judy would walk over to the windowsill and climb inside it, gazing out the window towards the streets. Despite his excellent peripheral vision, not once did Nick see her glance over at him during his griddle sessions. She would remain as still as a statue when sitting over there, not raising a single finger, twitching her ears, or even _blinking_.

The griddle was crafted in a unique way. It was a highly unusual triangle-shaped machine; Nick couldn't help himself but to question the design process of the miniature grill. Was the model intending to save space, or was it just a cheap little sight gag by representing the shape of a carrot? Regardless of the reason behind it, Nick found the shape to be quite humorous.

Because of its age, the old-fashioned apparatus had twirling coils that would light up to a dim, threatening, and menacing red once they got hot. Thanks to the improvements in technology since apparently the seventeen hundreds, Nick has seldom seen quite a sight like this before. The flashing, dim red display light estimated a temperature of around three hundred and seventy-five degrees; it was difficult to tell due to the periodic yet brief light outages that blighted the griddle. Out of curiosity, Nick conducted a small "experiment" with the heat by testing his brain's ability to register the pain. When he felt dared enough, he began to inch a finger towards an exposed part of a coil, trying to see how close to the red-hot surface he could get. The closer the finger got, the more difficult it would be to resist his body's urge to pull away from the heat. The challenge began as a small blanket of heat which quickly rose to a smoldering wave of unbearable pain that almost burnt some of his fur off. Aborting his little "scientific experiment", Nick yanked his finger back and shook it off for a second, trying to cool it off. He estimated that his finger must have not been much further than a quarter inch away from the lava-hot griddle. Upon a thorough inspection, Nick found a dark pink spot concealed under his bright, orange fur. He grasped the finger with his other hand, holding it tight in hopes that it would deliver some sort of temporary relief. What a bad idea that was.

"NICK! THE PANCAKES!" Judy suddenly shouted.

Distracted by his burn, Nick spaced out on monitoring the pancakes, allowing them to cook to an unpleasant and unappetizing dark brown. By now, small streams of smoke began to crawl out from the bottom of the cakes.

"Ah, shi-" he stuttered, scraping breakfast off of the griddle with the spatula in hand. Looking at the abominations, Nick saw one side as the perfect golden brown that he sought after in a pancake breakfast. On the other side, however, all he was a brownish-black, blazing hot, and rock hard attempt at a pancake. As a matter of fact, it was dark enough that Santa Paws could probably accept it as charcoal for the bad mammals' stockings. The cakes were still edible, however. The only minor convenience with these would be that on occasion, it would taste like they were eating lumps of coal.

Judy jumped off the windowsill and jogged over to Nick, whom was starting to scrape the burnt residue off the griddle. While Judy inspected the burnt cakes, Nick finished the duty of cleaning the griddle and shut it off, grabbing his finger after doing so.

Judy asked, "You okay?" upon noticing his hands.

"Yeah, I just burned myself a little bit."

"Here, let me see," she said with the soft, warm voice of a mother.

Hesitantly, Nick displayed the pink, tender, and swollen wound for her. Judy took his hand and closely inspected it.

"Oh my goodness! Does it hurt?"

Nick nodded his head.

"Here, I'm going to get you a bag of ice. Stay put; don't move a single muscle!" she said while dashing towards her mini freezer. Like much of the décor in her house, Nick found how amusing it was to see the size of the freezer. Sitting alongside an equally small refrigerator a few feet from the front door, the two machines were, at most, around three feet tall. If she was lucky, she could probably fit four, maybe five packages in whatever space was available inside the freezer. The top shelf was completely occupied by a small ice maker and the bin, which already had delivered a full box of ice from working hard overnight.

Judy took the entire box out while simultaneously opening a small baggie that was coincidentally sitting on top of the freezer. Despite the cold nipping and biting at her paws, Judy took several handfuls of the ice cubes and compressed them into the bag, trying to fit as many cubes into the bag as possible.

"You know you don't have to do this," clarified Nick.

"Yeah, I know. I also know that if someone receives a burn, then the best remedy is ice," she replied with a bitterly sharp tone. Nick mildly appreciated the parallels she drew to his snarly comment a little while earlier.

Upon completing the chilly deed, Judy drew her hands to her mouth, trying to heat them with her breath. The frostbite eventually dissolved after a few seconds of the warm and moist breath, and she delivered the ice bag to the fox. Upon giving it to him, she kneeled down in front of him, just shy of a foot away from being face-to-face.

"You hungry?" she requested, in a soft and warm voice.

Nick wrapped his finger around the bag of ice, which immediately bought him some time from experiencing the fiery pain.

" _Starving_."

The warm, moist aroma of pancakes saturated the tiny studio. Sugar and wheat dominated the flavor of the scent, but there were very strong notes of blueberry. The blueberries that Judy bought at the market a couple of blocks away almost felt like a cruel backstab against her family's business. No blueberries on Earth could match the quality of Hopps' Family Farm. The pulp of the berries, all while juicy and sweet, had a flavor unlike anything else. She didn't know whether this flavor was because of the volcanic soil they grow produce in, or if it was because of her parents' well-respected farming techniques. Regardless, she could eat a bushel of their berries a day for the rest of her life. Then again, so would Nick. The last care package they delivered to her (which was about a month and a half ago) included two pounds of blueberries, which disappeared in about six hours because of that sly fox. However, these berries that she bought were not the same. Judy tasted a few before they mixed them in the batter a little while ago, and one of them was almost unbearably sour, as if she was sinking her teeth into a miniature lemon. She hoped that the sour berry was an isolated one that was mistakenly harvested a little early.

The air was so thick that one could almost see a thin haze hanging in the air. After sniffing the elegant fumes, there was no choice but to open the only window; the apartment would otherwise be converted into a sauna. It would be a sacrifice to discard the scent from Heaven, but she'd prefer it over becoming slow-cooked rabbit meat.

Judy grabbed a couple of paper plates and plastic utensils from the cupboard to enjoy their meal on. Having to leaf through the tightly packed plates, however, was quite the unexpected challenge. It was a major-minor struggle, but she was eventually able to separate two of the plates that were glued together. While putting the rest of the stack away, Judy noticed a few plastic cups sitting towards the back as well. What was a pancake breakfast without some juice to accommodate it? She took the cups out and waltzed over to the fridge.

"Nick, want some juice?"

Still in a tense mental battle with himself, the fox almost missed what she asked. It took a few seconds to trigger a response.

"Uh, sure. What kind of juice?"

Opening the miniature refrigerator, she saw about half a quart full of orange juice.

"Well, I have some orange juice. And if you really want some, I got some carrot juice at the market this morning as well."

"Definitely orange. Please."

"Orange it is," she exclaimed while taking the jug out. Judy herself also preferred orange juice this particular morning, as the bushel of carrots from last night was enough to keep her away from the vegetable for what could be a few days. After all, carrots were high in sugar and she was considering going on a carrot-free diet. Setting the cups side by side, she filled them both up halfway, using almost all of the remaining juice.

"Hey, there's a little bit left, and your cup is halfway full. Do you want a little more?"

Silence. Judy looked over at Nick, who was sitting on her bed, looking straight at the wall in front of him. The fox appeared to be in a trance of some sort; his pupils were constricted and he appeared to be motionless.

"Uh…Nick?"

Calling out his name seemed to reemerge him into reality.

"I-I'm sorry. What did you say?"

"I asked if you wanted a little extra juice."

"Alright, sure."

Topping off his cup, Judy grew suspicious of his odd behavior. This wasn't the Nick that she knew. Never before (excluding the first couple of days that they met) has he been sour, snappy, and isolated from her. Perhaps he just didn't get a good night's rest, or he may be shy from spending the night. Regardless, it was something worth asking about. Judy grabbed both cups in one hand, holding them together by pinching the insides against each other, and a plateful of pancakes in the other.

"Hey, would you mind getting the two plates? They are sitting right next to the microwave. We can just eat on my bed. Just try not to make a mess."

Nick did as he instructed, all without saying a word. When he returned to sit back down, Judy scooted a little closer to him; an indicator that made Nick grow even more uncomfortable. Before she could move herself any closer, Nick placed the pancakes between them.

"Dig in!" he nervously chuckled.

The two did as so, and initially ate in silence. Not just because of how hungry they were, but because of the tension in the air. Both mammals had contrasting opinions and thoughts about each other, which put pressure on both of them. Especially Nick. As a matter of fact, he could only shovel down two pancakes before growing nauseated from his fear of the impending confession. Gathering every scrap of courage he could find, he took a break from eating, hoping this would be a good opportunity to talk to the rabbit he truly loved; just not romantically.

"Hey, Judy?"

"What's up?" Her ears flicked upwards in curiosity; perhaps excitement.

"So I'm just curious...What are your feelings towards me?"

Judy paused her meal to contemplate the question. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you know…I just think that you have some sort of _attraction_ towards me."

A sly smile grew on her face; one that only made Nick feel even worse. This was literally the exact opposite of what he wanted to happen.

"Well…maybe…" she mumbled. "Why do you ask?"

"Ugh…I don't know how to put this. I'm bad at doing these kinds of speeches, so just hear me out," he said while resting his paw on her thigh.

Judy didn't know what to make of what he just said and did. In a way she felt optimistic, but for some strange reason, her heart was pumping blood full of pessimism; it seemed to override any positivity inside her.

"Judy, this past year has been fantastic. I never would have guessed that the dumb bunny that I hustled and left for dead would become my future partner. As a police officer, too! I mean, who would have expected a fox to be a police officer, right?

"Anyway, it is quite nice that we have grown so close together that we ended up becoming best friends. And truly, it's been an honor to bestow you with that title. However…I think this is where things should remain."

With that one line of dialogue, Judy's smiled faded to a neutral expression. Her ears dropped and her eyes widened.

"W…what?"

"Judy, I understand that you like me. More than just a friend. I think that's very sweet of you. Seriously, I appreciate it! However, I just can't see us being together, for one reason and one reason only: the worst thing that could ever happen to me would be if I lost you as a friend. You're the first true animal, other than a fox, who actually trusted me. Something like that is extremely special for us foxes. And if we were to be in a relationship, and things go south…I fear that we would just become strangers again. It's something that I just can't afford to lose."

"No…Nick! Hear me out. I know it will work. I promise! You just need to trust me!" Judy desperately dug up reasons to contradict his thoughts. "Can't we just give it a couple of days…weeks? Just to see what happens?"

"I appreciate your efforts, but I just can't commit to something like this. You're too close of a friend to me. I love you, Judy. I really do. Just not in a relationship kind of way."

All of the bones in Judy's body felt as if they were made of broken glass. Crushed. Using every ounce of energy in her body, she tried to fight back the tears that were moistening in her eyes.

"Please Nick. Just give me a chance," she choked out. "You won't regret it…"

"I'm sorry. It just can't happen."

Nick almost felt regretful of what he had just said. He never wanted to hurt the rabbit's feelings, but admitting something like this would be inevitable. It would be much better to deliver disappointing news to her than to lose her as a friend. Judy took a deep, shaky breath and tried to keep herself together. Although he couldn't see them, Nick knew that tears would eventually be streaming down her face. To try and comfort her, he rested a hand on her shoulder. It was a sign that he was still here for her, and that he will always be here for her. Eventually, the waterworks began and Judy softly began to weep. For this occasion, Nick allowed the poor rabbit to soak his Hawaiian shirt. It needed to be cleaned anyway.

"Alright. I understand."


	5. Wednesday Evening, 10 PM

The farmhouse, roughly a mile or so away, began to emerge in the horizon in front of Bogo. Despite what seemed like endless upon endless rows of corn and soybeans wrapping around the road, he could start seeing signs of home. Despite his relatively poor vision (that he inherited from both his parents), his eyes were beginning to register the dark and dreary colors of the brownish-black house and the contrasting vibrant and warm red colors of the nearby barn house. Additionally, the fiery colors of the sunset behind him augmented the hues of the paint. Not only did it assist Bogo in viewing the buildings, but it also gave him a chance to admire the beauty of the country life where he grew up. It was a blessing and a privilege to be raised in such a picturesque landscape.

"Have you ever thought about becoming a police officer, sport?"

Still mesmerized by the beauty in front of him, it took him a couple of seconds to realize that Justin was asking him a question.

"Not really, it sounds kinda boring," the young buffalo answered.

Justin let out a gentle chuckle, trying to redirect his focus back to the road. "Well, it may sound boring, but based on your bravery and your integrity, I think you'd really love it."

' _Love it?',_ thought Bogo. ' _What part of handcuffing bad guys, attending boring meetings, and driving around all day sounds fun?!'_

"Why?!" he asked in a sour voice. "Gimme one good reason."

"Well, Mister Grumpy Pants, remember that time you climbed on top of the roof of the barn yesterday?"

Justin took Bogo by surprise. ' _How did he know I climbed up there?',_ the little buffalo thought.

"Uhm…I have no idea what you're talking about…" he lied.

Perhaps Justin was just complementing Bogo when he said that the little buffalo had integrity.

"Awe, c'mon!", he said while lightly striking Bogo. "Don't lie, buddy. I saw you up there. Look, I promise, pink promise, that I didn't tell mom and dad at all. As far as I know, they know nothing about it, okay?"

"So?"

"Well…I just thought that you should know that what you did was quite brave. A little stupid, but brave. I suppose you were just having a little fun, but what exactly were you doing up there?"

"Ally and I were just playing Frisbee, but she accidentally tossed it too hard and it went on the roof."

"Wait a minute. Since when did we have a Frisbee? And why didn't you tell me about it? You know I love tossing that thing around!"

"Well, actually it's not ours. Ally got it for her birthday last week, and she invited me to play with her. When it went on the roof of the barn, she felt awful that her brand new toy would be stuck up there for, like, forever."

"So…you climbed the roof, risking your safety, to get it for her?"

"I don't know…I guess so," Bogo humbly murmured.

Justin pulled up to the old barn house, and rolled his car inside the parking garage, where he always put it. The garage of the house was quite small; only the family's station wagon and Justin's car could fit in there. However, it was all the family needed. They weren't wealthy or busy; managing the farm was the one thing that kept them happy. As a matter of fact, the sedan was seldom used. Because of the productivity of the farm, there would be little reason for the family of four to leave the property.

After easing his car to a nice stop, Justin cut the ignition. Bogo opened his door, but he was restrained by Justin, who still wanted to terminate the conversation they were having earlier.

"That's really nice of you buddy. Do you realize how special it must have made Ally feel? Because I'll bet my bottom dollar that she wouldn't climb up there herself."

"Maybe? Look, I don't see it as a big deal. The Frisbee got stuck on the roof, so I went to retrieve it! I don't see how that would qualify me to become a cop."

Justin took a deep breath. "Do you even remember the story of how dad got put in his wheelchair indefinitely?"

"Kind of? Didn't he fall from a tree or something?"

"Eh, sort of. Look at me, sport," Justin firmly said while looking at his brother in the eye. "He did exactly what you did. He climbed the barn when he was around ten years old, so just a little younger than you are. It was something he just wanted to do for fun, because like you, he was quite adventurous as a kid.

And when he almost reached the top of the barn, an unfortunate misstep sent him plummeting to the ground…fifteen feet below. His neck snagged a tree branch on the way down, which cascaded his body into some bushes below. Grandpa found him about a half hour later when he heard a faint cry for help.

"The doctors…they thought he would never make it. Thanks to the impact of the tree branch, which was actually lodged into his body, he broke his neck on the way down. They thought that the damage to his nervous system was terminal, and that he wouldn't live much longer than a few months. From what Grandpa told me, and from the photos of it that I saw, …it wasn't pretty."

Justin accidentally stumbled upon the photographs in the attic of the house when he was searching for a textbook for his biology class. When moving several boxes around, one went over the edge of a shelf, littering the ground with black and white polaroid photographs of their father. Investigating the photographs, which he assumed were taken by the doctors at the hospital, would be a huge mistake: not only did they show the water buffalo on the verge of death, but the external injuries were _incredibly_ gruesome.

The second photograph he examined showed their father being wheeled into an emergency operating room on a stretcher. His neck was distorted and twisted, somewhat to the right. A tree branch, perhaps up to five inches in length, was wedged deep into his neck. If one was to look closely, a lump on the front of his neck was the branch almost puncturing its way all the way through the flesh and blood that was his neck. It was incredibly lucky that the branch did not puncture their father's throat, which would have sealed his death certificate thanks to him drowning in his own blood.

If that such a thought was not enough to make Justin's stomach churn, there was also blood in the photographs. Even though the fluid appeared as a dark grey in the polaroid, he could almost see the bright red in his mind. As a matter of fact, there was so much blood in the photograph that Justin thought about how cold the buffalo must be: so much warm blood soaking his hair, clothes, and body must be sucking any heat within him. The source of the gore was an incredible cut that wrapped around the back side of his neck. Despite the wound being temporarily bandaged to stop the bleeding, the cloth was completely soaked in his lukewarm blood. Additionally, the t-shirt he was wearing was completely ruined. Thankfully, their father was on anesthesia and could not feel any more of the pain he was enduring.

Several photos of blood and gore were accompanying the one he just viewed. However, many photos, if placed in chronological order, would have painted a much more optimistic story. It would start with him resting in a hospital bed, surrounded with complicated machinery and a neck brace. Another photo would depict him going through an operation to stitch his wounds. The last photo that Justin saw before placing it and the rest back to their respective place was a group photo. It showed his dad being wheeled out of the hospital, surrounded by the fantastic doctors who helped him recover alongside his family.

"Even though he will never walk again, it was truly a blessing that dad survived. It's something that we need to remind ourselves," said Justin. "If he never survived through hell like that, then we wouldn't be here."

A chill spiraled down Bogo's spine. Even though that very tree that paralyzed his father was cut down many, many years ago, the tale was enough to suspend his climbing trips indefinitely.

"I…I promise. I promise that I will never climb that barn again."

"I appreciate that, sport. But I'm not trying to scare you away from having adventures. That was more of a side-conversation. Trust me, it's much better that you heard it from me than from dad."

"So, as you were saying about me being a cop?" Bogo uttered, trying to wrap up the conversation.

"Right. Well, to cut to the chase, you climbed that barn to, in a way, make the community a better place. Even though you knew there was a risk of falling and hurting yourself, you did so anyway. You know what kinds of people do that as their job?"

"Let me guess: police officers."

"Bingo! Alright, let's head inside. Mom and dad are probably getting dinner ready for us!"

The two finally climbed out of the car and waltzed inside the house. Greeting them was one of Bogo's favorite smells: homemade tomato soup. Bogo loved bisque. He'd eat it every day if he could. However, his mother's soup was special. Using tomatoes that they grew on their own farm, she would grind them into a paste. Adding milk, spices, and a little bit of basil, she would blend everything together and allow it to simmer on the grill. That simmering would deliver a mouth-watering scent of home and comfort. Oh, how he loved it.

Also playing were some of their father's music on the home stereo. He had a very eccentric music library. Amongst the melting pot of harmonies, there were artists such as the Beagles, the Boars, Led Zeppelican, and Stink Floyd, to name a few.

"Hey, you two!" shouted their mother in the kitchen. Bogo got a quick glance of her as he stepped inside. "How did little league football tryouts go?"

Justin sighed. "Well, they…were okay."

Bogo had a dreary look growing on his face.

"Well, hon? Did you make the team?"

Stepping into the living room, which was openly connected to the living room and the hallway to the garage, Bogo felt pressured. His mother, father, and brother surrounded him, even though they were all rather distant. What was he to say?

"I don't know…the coach told me that I should join later."

"What do you mean by later? As in later in the season?" probed his mother.

"As in later tryouts. They thought that I was still too scared to play."

"Oh, sweetie. I'm so sor-"

"But are you, though?" interrupted Bogo. A look of disgust and madden materialized across his face. The pressure around him grew, as if the atmosphere was weighing down in the few square feet of space that he existed in.

"Tell you what, mom: before you go on apologizing and telling me that 'everything is going to be okay', why don't you go through three years of football tryouts, only to be shut down each year. Do you think it's easy being a football player? Not only do they expect you to be fit, which I am, but they also expect you to have a _heart of stone_. They don't give a shit about how hard you worked or how committed you are. If they don't like you, then they kick you out.

"So no, mom. Don't apologize. It wasn't even your fault. And don't you even dare say that it will be okay. Because it won't! Working for eight freaking months and this is what I get in return? Why do I even bother trying?!"

"Alright, let's talk this out…" cut in his father.

"Shut up, dad! You have no room to speak here."

"HEY! CUT IT OUT!" shouted Justin. "What gives you the right to treat your parents like this, huh?! What did they do to you, sport? Nothing! Do they treat you like total crap when things go south on them?!"

Silence.

"Well? Do they?"

"…No."

"Just as I thought. Give yourself some time, sport. Your brain is in circles right now." Justin walked over to his mother, who was beginning to tear up in due of the standoff.

Bogo's knees began to shake, almost uncontrollably. Realizing what he has done, lashing at his parents in frustration, Bogo collapsed to the floor, sobbing in anguish. Never before in his life has his emotions taken physical control of his body. As the tears streamed down his face, his sobbing almost rendered him breathless; unable to speak, let alone get a sufficient intake of air. He knew he was acting childish, but why did it matter? Who was it that was speaking to his parents? Was it the loving, caring, sweet child that they raised for ten years, or was it some sort of "second soul"? One that was bred from his anguish, sorrow, anger, and frustration?

Justin ran over to his brother to attend to him. Trying to calm down his brother was no use; the little buffalo was sobbing uncontrollably. All that Justin could have hoped was that this wasn't the result of him snapping at his little brother. It was something he seldom did. Trying to raise his little brother to _not_ be like him was the number one priority for Justin. Shouting at him was a sinful act for Justin.

Unable to calm down Bogo, Justin used his muscle power to carry his little brother down the hallway to his bedroom, the furthest room in the hallway. During the journey to what felt like prison, Bogo grabbed ahold of his brother's t-shirt, both using it as a tissue and as a stress reliever. By the time the two had reached the bedroom, Justin's shirt was soaked in tears and snot, with the sleeves and collar of his shirt stretched out of proportion. Justin sat Bogo down on his bed, and kneeled down to look him face to face.

"Listen to me, bud."

Bogo continued to stare at the ground, with an endless supply of tears streaming down his face.

"Hey!" snapped Justin, lightly slapping his cheek to get his attention. "Listen to me. Sport! Are you listening?"

"Y-ye-yes…," replied the sobbing buffalo.

"Look, I think you need to have some time to yourself. You're not thinking straight this evening, and I don't want you to do anything more stupid than what you did back there, alright? I'll be back in a while with some soup for you. But what I need you to do right now is calm down and end the battle with those demons in your head." Justin poked Bogo's noggin a couple of times during the last sentence.

With that last word, Bogo fell back on his bed as his brother walked out of his room. He closed the door, giving his brother the courtesy to weep in peace. Using all of his might, however, Bogo suppressed his crying, soaking in the sounds of the environment around him while doing so.

Nothing out of the ordinary could be heard; just the atmosphere of the house lifting. The muffled footsteps of Justin reentering the kitchen was the first thing that Bogo noticed. Disembodied conversations echoed through the hallways. The one thing that caught Bogo's attention, however, was the music that was playing.

Thanks to his father's stereo setup, there was a speaker right at the entrance of the hallway, which was the perfect place for sound to feed straight into his room with surprisingly loud sound. The song that Bogo was listening to spoke to him, and he didn't know necessarily why. Bogo knew little about the track itself, except that it was written by a duo called _Lion and Garfunkel_ or something like that, and that it was written around twenty years ago. The buffalo focused his attention on the lyrics that made their way to his ear:

 _Hello darkness, my old friend  
I've come to talk with you again  
Because a vision softly creeping  
Left its seeds while I was sleeping  
And the vision that was planted in my brain  
Still remains within the roars of silence_

 _In restless dreams I talked alone  
Narrow streets of cobblestone  
'Neath the halo of a street lamp  
I turned my collar to the cold and damp_

 _When my eyes were stabbed  
By the flash of a neon light  
That split the night  
And touched the roars of silence_

 _And in the naked light I saw  
Ten thousand mammals, maybe more  
Mammals talking without speaking  
Mammals hearing without listening_

 _Mammals writing songs  
That voices never share  
And no one dare  
Disturb the roars of silence_

 _"Fools, " said I, "you do not know  
Silence, like a cancer, grows.  
Hear my words that I might teach you  
Take my arms that I might reach you."  
But my words like silent raindrops fell  
And echoed in the wells of silence_

 _And the mammals bowed and prayed  
To the neon God they made  
And the sign flashed out its warning  
And the words that it was forming_

 _And the sign said,  
"The words of the prophets  
Are written on the subway walls  
And tenement halls."  
And whispered in the roars of silence_

The baby buffalo fell withdrew himself for the rest of the evening. Even when Justin brought a small bowl of tomato soup for him, he left it to spoil, not lifting his spoon once. All Bogo did was rest on his bed, contemplating how he seemed to be undergoing some sort of personality change. It was tearing him apart, which not only scared him, but enraged him. Before he could battle any further with his inner demons, however, his mind drifted to sleep, at around nine in the evening. Hopefully a good night's rest would redeem his harsh words.

This was not the case, however. Bogo, instead of waking up to the morning light, woke up to the sound of the combustion of fireplace wood. He glanced over at the alarm clock beside him. Six minutes past ten. For some reason, only one conclusion hit him. Who else would be starting a session at the fireplace?

' _Justin…'_


	6. Combustion

"Hey…It's me."

Gently swaying in the living room rocking chair, obscured by the bright fireplace in front of him, Justin took a second to respond. Although the little Bogo was no more than ten feet behind him, his brother had some sort of creepy vibe attached to him. It could have been because of the flames, imprinting a shadowy aspect on him, but it also could have been the darkness that engulfed the rest of the house.

"Hey there, sport," replied Justin without moving his head, "are you doing okay?"

"I don't know…A little better, I guess."

"That's good."

Bogo's politeness and contentment, which his parents drilled into his brain since he was a young'un, generated a response by second nature. It wasn't something that he could not control; whenever a conversation stalls like this one was, the only way to resume it is to keep talking.

"…how about yourself?"

He walked over to his older brother, who was rhythmically swinging the chair. _Back and forth_ , _back and forth_. Upon inspecting his face, Bogo saw no expression on it. Although he was exhibiting signs of fatigue and exhaustion, a blank expression painted his face. His body, almost as still as his face, seldom stirred; the only movement that he exhibited accompanied the chair he was rocking in. Like a neutral standoff between two bitter rivals, an uneasy peace complemented his physical state. Although one could dismiss such a feeling as a side effect of fatigue, Bogo knew that his brother possessed many issues. Issues which he was likely reflecting on that very evening.

"Well…I don't know. It's something that I just cannot put in simple terms," he drearily mumbled.

Trying to redeem his outburst earlier in the evening, Bogo rested a hand on his brother's arm, as a gesture to comfort him and provide support. "You can explain it to me if you'd like. You know I'm here for you, right?"

Justin took a deep breath, and contemplated for several seconds how to put his state of mind into contest. Bogo knew that Justin has suffered from bipolar disorder, which stemmed him towards depression.

 _Maniac Depression_.

"Alright, what I want you to do is close your eyes, sport. And try to picture what I'm about to tell you. Hopefully it can give you context about what is going on with me right now. You understand?"

"Yeah," replied Bogo with his eyes sealed shut.

"Alright, that's my boy. So picture yourself in a wide, open field. And in this wide, open field, you are surrounded by all the buildings you've grown up with. School…Home…Grandma and Grandpa's house…Ally's house… and let's not forget the waterpark!

"So imagine all of these buildings have formed a circle around yourself, where you are in the middle of all these places. No matter which building you want to walk to, they all are the same distance away from you. They could all be a hundred feet away, or they all could be a hundred _miles_ away! Just to make things simple, let's say they are just a couple hundred feet away. Close enough to where you can still see them, but not too far away that you can't reach them. Are you following me so far?"

"Mhm."

"Just making sure. So now imagine I was there, right next to you. And I told you that to grab your backpack from home, which is right in front of you. Could you do it?"

"Pssh. With my eyes closed!"

"Is that so? Well, now I want you to imagine that I put a blindfold on you, and spun you around ten times, then instructed you to do what I told you earlier, which was to get your backpack. But this time, there's a catch: I've hid your backpack somewhere in the house. It could be anywhere! The attic, basement, your room, or the kitchen. Now since your dizzy, disoriented, and lost, could you do it? Could you find the missing backpack?"

"Probably not."

"I don't blame you. I'll tell you right now, I couldn't do it myself either. You don't know which way our house is anymore, you've lost the idea of how far away it is, and even if you do make it to our house, finding the backpack is a whole different ballgame.

"Let's pretend that you somehow manage to find your way to the house. The journey was difficult, because you had to investigate each property with only the perhaps the smell of it and any architectural remedies you can make out by touching them. Perhaps some places sound familiar if you walk through them or knock against their materials.

"Anyway, so you walk in to the house, still somewhat disoriented from me spinning you around earlier. You begin searching for the backpack, hoping that maybe I hid it under your bed. Or perhaps it is in the garage, sitting in the front seat of the sedan. For all you know, it could be tucked in the back of the refrigerator! But because you need your backpack for school, you press on looking for it anyway. For hours, even days, you search the house top to bottom, using your remaining four senses to navigate yourself through what has now become a maze.

"About a week or so later, just as you are about to give up the hopeless search, I come from behind you and grab your attention. ' _Hey, sport! Guess what? You're searching the wrong place now! You didn't know, but I secretly took the backpack, which was in the refrigerator, and hid it inside Grandma and Grandpa's house! Now try searching for it there!'_ "

"But Grandma and Grandpa's house is a little bit bigger than ours, isn't it?" interjected Bogo.

"Exactly. So despite the search becoming quite more difficult, you press on. You walk out of our house and try to remember where Grandma and Grandpa's house was. It was definitely somewhere in the circle, but you don't remember! Once again, you have to go through the process of investigating each property without the valuable privilege of sight. After eventually finding Grandma and Grandpa's house, you start searching for the hidden backpack once again, only for me to tell you a week later that I put it in Ally's house, which is much bigger than Grandma and Grandpa's house!

"This would go on and on, with the backpack moving around to bigger and bigger buildings the more you try to search for it. With each passing second, you grow more desperate yet more hopeless that you won't ever get out of this crazy mess. And the more that you try to find this fricking backpack, the more difficult and energy-depriving it becomes.

"Now the way I see it, you either have two choices at this point. You can either press on and continue to find the backpack, perhaps even finding it one day, or you can give up and abandon the quest. Throw in the rag, take off your blindfold, and go home."

Bogo, now fully engaged in Bogo's metaphorical story, eagerly awaited what else he was going to say.

"This is what depression feels like, buddy. You can think of our lives as the buildings that I mentioned that surrounded us. And once you accept the challenge, that is, become depressed, you're in for a difficult quest. Searching for the backpack of happiness is the only goal that we all look for. Searching for it will be hard, because you have to navigate your way around obstacles and barriers that prevent you from achieving this state of bliss. If you complete the challenge and happen to stumble upon the backpack, then you are able to go to school. Without a blindfold and without a doubt in your mind where you are going and what you are doing. It's something that I have always desired for. However, there have been mammals in this world who have given up on the game. They lost the challenge, the battle, the journey. The things that they do to themselves…"

Bogo didn't need a thesaurus or a dictionary to understand what Justin was trying to explain with his metaphor. It was enough to give him a detailed description of the emotional pain that his brother must have endured throughout the past couple of years

"So…if you're currently searching for your 'backpack', then what started your quest? If I don't mind asking?"

Justin took another deep breath. "It's a good question. I'm glad you asked. So still remember Marie, right? Marie Gilmore?"

"Marie? Yeah, I still remember her."

"Well, as weird as this may sound, I still love her."

"Really? You lost her two years ago, Justin. Haven't you moved on?"

"I wish. But for me, it's not that simple. She was the love of my life, and I reckon that I was the love of her life as well. I'd always hear stories of how we'd get married someday, and how we were just meant for each other. When I lost her, it felt as if she took my heart and soul with her. Since she left, I've never recovered. Each day, I still think about the bliss that I had when I was with her. If only I had done something sooner, or maybe if I could have explained-"

"Justin," Bogo interrupted with a soft voice, "don't beat yourself up over this. It wasn't your fault, okay? I'll bet losing someone like that is difficult and I truly feel sorry for you. But you shouldn't punish yourself for something you didn't do."

"You're right, sport. Good grief, I need to think logically here. Sorry for rambling on, I surely must be boring you."

"No, you're not. What you're doing is explaining to me how you feel. And your bright mind was able to explain it to where I could understand. Thank you for that. It means a lot."

Justin nodded, and the two focused their attention to the fireplace in front of them.

The flames figured spontaneously from wood seemingly out of nowhere. Thanks to having a little background knowledge in elementary school chemistry, Bogo knew that the fire was consuming wood as it continued to burn. Stop the feed of wood, however, and the fire would eventually calm down, mellow out, and dematerialize into the minute amounts of orange embers that coated the base of the fireplace.

It was almost as if a fire had a life of its own. A fire has a beginning and an end, just like any ordinary mammal. Additionally, the blaze would change whenever it was met with something that would either allow it to grow or force it to diminish. Mammals responded in a very similar way; they can either grow or shrink based on what life throws at them. The way Bogo thought about it reminded himself that eventually, all fires come to an end. No matter how big one will grow, it will die from a lack of fuel, heat, or oxygen. And between the time a fire births and recedes, it can either evolve into a massive inferno, guzzling wood and earth as it continues to grow, or it can be short lived, like the lifespan of the gentle flame that rests on a matchstick or a lighter. The longevity of a flame all depends on its access to the fuel, heat, and oxygen that keeps it alive.

The fire in front of them was still alive and well, burning its way through the three logs that rested in harmony alongside one another. An occasional splinter or crack could emanate from it, and once in a while, an ember would jet out of the incineration and take a mindless journey throughout the chimney, perhaps the living room itself, before extinguishing itself and vanishing. It looked as if the fire could burn on for several more hours. However, without warning, a log was jarred loose out of its position and crashed into the pile of ash below it. The seemingly random event took a toll on the blaze, which could only feed on that log's burnt side. With each passing minute, the strength of the fire began to ebb, eventually finding contentment by transforming a scorched log into a pulsating, relaxing array of small orange lights that littered all across it. Occasionally, any unburned material on the log would combust a few short-lived flames, but overall, the fire continued to die. Thanks to the loose log, the entire fire diminished. Perhaps it could live for a little while longer if Justin chooses to not replenish it with more wood, but if not then the fire probably had thirty more minutes or so left to live.

"Justin?"

"What's up, buddy?"

"Will ever recover someday? Return to a state of happiness and bliss?"

"I…I don't know, sport. I really don't. The problem is that my hopes of getting this whole mess resolved change, day by day. Sometimes, I'll feel quite confident and hopeful – even happy – that someday I will recover. However, there have been days in which I fell the exact opposite. Days in which I feel like I'm trapped at the bottom of the ocean. All the weight of the water above me, and I can't swim up to get a breath of air. It's impossible sometimes, you know?"

"That was deep...No pun intended, of course."

The two shared a cheap chuckle at the mild humor.

"Hey, what does the clock in the kitchen say? I can't see it from here."

Bogo glanced around at the clock. Despite the poor lighting, he was barely able to make out the positions of the hands on the clock.

"Five past ten."

"Getting late there, buddy. You've got a school day, tomorrow. Tell you what. I'll get you a jumbo pop from the freezer if you promise to eat the entire thing! Will that make you feel better?"

The child's face lit up with so much joy that it could hardly contain itself. Jumbo pops, his all-time favorite dessert, was something he only enjoyed once in a blue moon. Special days such as birthdays, holidays, and celebrations accounted for most of the occasional consumption of the ice pops.

"I promise! Pinky swear!"

"Alright. What flavor would you like? Last time I checked, we had…let me see…either cherry or grape."

"Grape! Grape! Grape!" he shouted.

"Sssshhhh," Justin hushed, "Don't wake up mom and dad! If they know what I'm doing, then we will both be in hot water. Stay put, I'll get you a gra-"

His sentence was interrupted by a tremendous flash just outside the window of the farmhouse followed almost immediately by an ear-piercing thunder. A curtain of heavy raindrops soon accompanied the storm, which must have swept in rather quickly. As the rain hit against the house, the disembodied taps against the house quickly became more pronounced the longer the storm went on. If their parents had not been awoken by Bogo's excitement, then the thunder would have done the trick. Obviously startled by the dramatic change in weather, Bogo squeezed his brother's arm much more tightly than he was before.

"Hey, hey, it's just a little lightning. It happens all the time! Remember that this kind of stuff will happen during the middle of the wet season. You know that, silly! I'll bet you that this storm is just sweeping by. It'll pass soon. C'mon, let's get you that jumbo pop," said Justin as he arose from the rocking chair.

"O-ok-kay…" replied a soft and shaky voice.

The two walked over to the freezer. Because of his short stature, Bogo could not yet reach the top shelf of the freezer, where the two remaining popsicles were stored. The much taller brother was able to pull the frozen treat of the shelf with ease, and delivered it to Bogo without hesitation. Thanks to its size, the popsicle looked as if it could supply a year's worth of sugar for the buffalo. Great. The last thing the parents would need is their youngest child, who hasn't even entered middle school yet, to be bouncing off the walls at two in the morning. Justin could only hope that it would not only cheer up his little brother, but that he would also be able to sleep through all of the sugar that was going through his system.

"Alright, buddy. Go get some rest. I'll see you in the morning, okay?"

"Thank you Justin! I love you so much!" whispered Bogo, who was much more cautious with his tone levels. The last thing he wanted would be for his parents to replace the popsicle back in the freezer, where it belonged.

Bogo pulled at Justin's arms, and brought him down to his height. With one hand holding the popsicle, Bogo wrapped the other around Justin's neck, giving him a small kiss on the cheek, an act of love and appreciation; a signal to Justin that even though he was going through some rough times, his little brother would always be by his side.

Justin broke their bondage and gently sent Bogo to bed. He carefully listened to his hooves walk down the hallway and towards his room. Once Bogo's bedroom door gently closed, Justin walked back to the fireplace and gazed at what was now a bed of glowing coals and embers, pulsating and humming as if the fire was still alive, hoping to cling on to whatever it had left to continue to burn.

An open window from the kitchen blew an unexpected gust of wind into the house. Thanks to the draft that came from the chimney, the wind drew a path straight towards the struggling coals. As the air whished up the chimney, making an eerie and unnerving howl while doing so, it kicked up ash that surrounded the charred wood, covering it in a greyish-black layer of cold ash. Once the cloud of particulate matter finally settled down, only two very faint embers rested in the fireplace.

' _Quite ironic',_ Justin thought, ' _That a raging inferno could succumb to just a simple gust of wind_ '.


	7. Pink Bismuth

Apparently, sleep was inferior to her.

Lying down in bed, stuffed animals surrounding her, Judy had nothing to do but look straight up. The sea of plushy rabbits, carrots, and police officers enveloped her almost completely, limiting her field of vision to a constricted part of the ceiling. She brought them to Zootopia with her to serve as comfort, yet tonight they provided very little. All she could do to refocus her mind was to stare at the ceiling. Despite how dark it was outside, and how obscure her room was, Judy managed to focus her attention on one small dip in the ceiling almost right above her. Just a small upset, a little divot, could barely be made out if one started at it long enough. Perhaps just studying the ceiling for a couple of hours would somehow amplify her crappy night vision, allowing her to see the depression. It wasn't much bigger than the head of a pin, and it seemed to be the only discontinuity in the otherwise perfectly smoothed ceiling. It mildly upset Judy; however, she reminded herself there were bigger things to worry about.

Glancing at her watch, Judy figured around four hours have passed since her last dosage. Without even looking, she reached over to her nightstand and grabbed the bottle of pink bismuth. Tossing the medicine in her lap, her hand also fumbled for the spoon that sat beside it. For some reason, she felt nothing across the spread of the table. That is, until a quick shift of her paw knocked the silverware off, generating an incredibly loud crashing sound upon contact with the ground. The noise was loud enough to startle her completely awake; her instincts, as if by force, lifted her body like a poltergeist straight upwards. Now siting upright in her bed, Judy caught her breath, before clenching her abdomen once again. A burning and nauseating sensation was continuing to loiter her stomach since it emerged early in the afternoon while on duty. Her body responded with aches and a fever soon afterwards; not a good sign if she wishes to work the next day. What started off as a mild tickle in her digestive system evolved to what she suspected was perhaps a case of food poisoning or even the stomach flu, both of which were the last things she needed, with what could be a hell week waiting for her upon returning to the ZPD. The rule of thumb at the station was that for every day one is calls out sick, then it would take around a week to get up to speed. Just stressing about the whole ordeal upset her body even more. The best thing for her right now was to keep herself still, sip on medicine, and fight the urge to spill everything she ate today all over her bed and apartment.

Judy didn't even have the energy to swipe the spoon of the ground in a quick fashion. With all hope lost on retrieving the lost spoon, she laid her down back to bed, and resorted to sipping on the bubble gum flavored liquid straight from the bottle. Even though the medicine, whose remedies were written in a completely exotic language of chemical nomenclature, she felt as if with each drop of the medicine, her system would progressively feel worse instead of better.

The first sign of trouble arose when Judy spontaneously felt nauseated from gas buildup in her track. With one risky but relieving belch, her body momentarily released a stockpile of aches and pains, which almost felt orgasmic for the pleasingly brief three seconds. She began to shuffle, toss and stir, tasting both bubble gum and sour, angry stomach acid that her burp delivered. To try and keep herself calm from what could be the inevitable, Judy started to fidget with one of her stuffed toys, playing with its ears, legs, and hands almost to the point where she was tearing them apart. Once she eventually talked herself out of destroying her plush animals, the rabbit resorted to breathing exercises to calm her down. Never before – not in any of her press conferences, not when Bellwether nearly killed her, not even when Gideon Grey attacked her sixteen years ago – has she been so wound up and nervous. Especially since this was just a minor passing event, not some sort of life-threatening condition. Relaxing, however, was half the battle; perhaps if she could just do so, her digestive track could follow an example and resolve any issues with whatever the hell got into her body.

 _'In, two, three, four, five…Out, two, three, four, five…In, two, three, four, five…Out, two, three, four, five…'_ she began reciting during her breathing exercises. This continued on four about five minutes; five minutes of her chest rhythmically rising and falling to the voice in her head. She laid almost completely still during the task, as if she was an entombed mummy in the exotic pyramids she would encounter on Saturday morning television. The breathing seemed to ease her mind, which in return loosened up some muscles and eased her stomach. Perhaps her mind did lead by example. Upon reaching a peaceful and blissful calm, Judy sought the opportunity to retrieve her phone from the desk. Sure enough, the move would be risky: her clean floors, a spare trip to the laundromat, and an extra sick day at work were all in jeopardy if, things would go south. Would it be worth the risk? After all, she would have to call in to work regardless. The station would get extremely grouchy if a sick or recently sick officer waltzed in, exposing other employees to the biohazards that can shut down a body for days at a time. What good would it be to show up to work ill, only to receive a bitter and unpleasant reputation from her coworkers?

Starting with a mental countdown from ten, Judy gathered any scrap of energy and power to vacate the comfort of her bed. Once she managed to get out of bed (the first time in about three and a half hours), Judy walked, rather stumbled, to her phone that was sitting face-down on the desk. During the trip, she felt like she was slowly turning into one of those cliché zombies in the movies that Nick would try to show. And with baggy, bloodshot eyes, disarrayed fur, and tarnished pajamas, Judy felt like she probably was portraying one quite accurately as well. They would always start out with a mysterious "sickness", which would spread like hotcakes after just one animal got infected.

Judy caught her breath upon arrival at the desk, micromanaging her own breathing pace as to not further disrupt her ill and fragile body. Once she was able to regain control over her breathing, she wasted no time swiping her phone off of the desk and vaulting back into bed. Once again encumbered by her stuffed animals, Judy turned on her phone to call the ZPD. She remembered that Clawhauser was working the late shift, which would make such a call much easier.

Clawhauser picked up after about the third ring.

"ZPD Precinct One, this is Benjamin Clawhauser!"

"Hey Clawhauser, it's Judy calling. Judy Hopps."

"Oh, hey Judy! Whatcha up to, little bunny?" he asked with a voice energetic like lightning and sweet as sugar.

Judy let out a disappointing and awkward chuckle. "Well, I need you to do me a favor. It's important."

"Alright! What do you have for me?"

"Well, as much as I hate to say this, I'm probably going to take tomorrow off. Since early this afternoon, I've been feeling quite under the weather with what could be the twenty-four-hour flu. And since there seems to be no signs of it going away anytime soon, I want to stay home tomorrow, perhaps visit my doctor. I really don't want to call out, but I figured that the last thing I want to do is make all of you guys sick."

"My goodness, Judy! You, like, never get ill! How are you holding up?"

"Oh, you know…I'm hanging in there. Nothing too bad so far, thank goodness. Just sticking to a diet of pink bismuth, antacids and soda pop. Oh, and saltine crackers. Those never get old. I'm also thinking about binge-watching Stranger Fangs. Say, sick days aren't too bad after all!"

"Man, that really sucks! I'm sorry to hear that! Here, I'll tell you what, even though the Chief left about an hour ago, so I'll leave him a message for tomorrow saying that you're taking a sick day. Would you like me to send you your paperwork, or do you want me to just leave it here for when you get back?"

"You can leave it on my desk. Thanks for asking."

"Alright, you're the boss! Well, Bogo is the boss…but you know what I mean! Just make sure you call us a couple hours in advance if you feel any better and want to report for duty."

"Thanks a million, Clawhauser. You're the best."

"Anytime, Jude. Tell you what, keep your phone nearby, and I'll send you some of my favorite Gazelle videos throughout the day tomorrow. How does that sound?"

"Ha, sounds great! I'll stay posted!" laughed Judy.

"Alright. Well, get some rest. You'll need it. Be sure to sip plenty of water and take medicine when you need it. We'll miss you while you're gone!"

"Since when did you become a doctor, Clawhauser?"

"Har har, you cute- I mean… clever bunny! Sorry!"

"It's fine, don't worry! You're not the first animal who inadvertently said it. Anyway, I gotta get some rest. I'll get back to you guys soon!"

"Thanks Jude. Get well soon!"

"G'bye!"

A small crack signaled the end of the call. Judy took another minute sip of the medicine and washed it down with some water that she had next to her in bed.

' _I should also probably tell Nick I'm not showing up to work tomorrow,_ ' she thought.

Almost immediately after that train of thought, she suddenly was overwhelmed with a horrible wave of nausea. Her abdomen felt as if it was being slowly suffocated and compressed, and her digestive organs felt as if they were being dissolved by the buildup of acid and bile throughout her system. With all her might, Judy fought back the urge to expel the medicine and water out of her system for around a minute or so. She threw caution to the wind and decided against making a trip to the restroom, under the belief that doing so would induce her to vomit. Eventually though, her body settled back down and she could once again sink back into her bed. Although she was relieved that she narrowly avoided a disaster, Judy reminded herself that even though she won the battle, the war was not yet over.

Judy took note of a chalky taste which recently began to saturate her mouth, which didn't come as much of a surprise. Sticking her tongue out and opening the camera app on her phone, Judy confirmed that her tongue was coated in a black layer of tar. Judy remembered reading somewhere that the bismuth in these medicines can turn some parts of a tongue black, but that was nothing to worry about. Although she wanted to believe it, Judy took her research with a grain of salt. Once reassured that her body was again temporarily calm, Judy washed out some of the residue with water and slowly swallowed the liquid, again careful to not disrupt her very sensitive digestive track.

Back to the task at hand, Judy pulled up Nick's contact information. It somewhat hurt to look at him the same way she did this morning. After all, the fox that she truly loved for, cared for, and wanted to be with did not have the same feelings for her, which drilled a hole into her heart. Having to hear express his feelings was a very difficult pill to swallow; one that perhaps she was simply joking on. Inexplicably, Judy forced herself to recall the sentence that essentially killed her:

 _'I'm sorry. It just can't happen.'_

Again.

 _'I'm sorry. It just can't happen._ '

And again.

 _'I'm sorry. It just can't happen._ '

All it took was just six simple words to destroy her faith and aspiration of engaging in what would have been the best times of her life. Hell, it could have lasted for the rest of their lives! But Nick toyed with her heart and her emotions. She was lost in a Roman wilderness of pain; lost and confused that he was essentially delivering her mixed signals. Especially since they grew to be best friends, Judy was always under the suspicion that Nick was being quite flirtatious with her as she was with him.

' _You know you love me,'_ she recalled him saying the first day they were partners.

' _Do I know that? Yes. Yes I do.'_

What exactly was his definition of _love_? Friend _ship_? Comrade _ship_? Companion _ship_? What ever happened to what she wanted: a relation _ship_? Did such a thought ever cross his mind? With such an armada of these _ships_ , he had to captain every single one except the one they were destined for? Would she need to sink all of those _ships_ just so he could climb aboard hers? Would that make her an emotional pirate?

Judy took another sip of the pink bismuth, ridding her mind of the nonsensical thoughts that had plagued her mind and refocusing for the second time on the task at hand. Whether she was pissed off, angry, or sad, it would still be noble and mature to tell him that she was sick. Hesitantly, she dialed his number, hoping that he had his phone within paws' reach. With each passing ring that echoed back to her phone, Judy started a mental countdown. A countdown to what would be his voicemail if no one picked up. Quite honestly, such a scenario would be much better than having to speak to him.

Five…four…three…two…one…

 _Silence_.

"Hi, you've reached Nicholas Wilde. If you're trying to sell me something, I've got four words for you: Do. Not. Call. List. However, if you're cool, leave it at the beep."

Judy couldn't breathe; she didn't know what to say! She never formulated a voicemail message in anticipation that he would pick up eventually. But because he never answered, she had no other choice but to improvise a script of what was supposed to be just a casual conversation. By the time the tone came around, she had only drafted a few words in her mind, which had been delivered entropically.

"Hey, uh…it's J-Judy. Hopps! Er…you knew that already…sorry. Anyway, so um, sorry to disturb you at this time of night, but, I…uh…I'm feeling sick. And I'm not g-going to be able to come in tomorrow…so uh you'll need to find a new partner. I mean-companion! NO-er…coworker. Right. You know what I was trying to say, right..?! Ugh, anyway I'm going to head to bed. Call me in the morning…if you want. I m-mean…you don't have to, but you know what I'm tryin' to say. Bye…"

Out of nowhere, Judy had the impulse to chuck her phone across the room in frustration and embarrassment. Her blood grew hot, and she felt the heat radiate across her forehead, ears, and neck. All in response to an incredibly ridiculous voicemail. Just seconds before hurling her phone, Judy reasoned with herself and relaxed the built up tension in her body, which succumbed to her bursting into tears. Her emotions were playing with her yet again.

' _You stupid, sensitive, dumb bunny!_ ' she lectured to herself.

Her sobbing continued for several more seconds, until she opened her eyes to take a breath and swab away at the stream of tears that drowned her fur. What caught Judy's attention, however, was her phone that sat right beside her. She didn't become alarmed until she noticed that _she never ended the call_. The voicemail just recorded an entire episode of tears, frustration, and emotional drama.

"Oh cheese and cra-" she stuttered while hanging up the call for good. Great! Now when Nick goes to check his voicemail in the morning, the only thing he will hear is a mumbling, depressed Judy and a brief crying session afterwards.

Normally, delivering a voicemail is nothing to Judy. Chief Bogo, her parents, and even Clawhauser sometimes forget that their phones were either off, or drained of battery, or simply on silent mode. It was something that she would always anticipate and be ready for whenever she tried to contact them. Nick, however, was… different. Judy recalled a log of all the times that she had called him. Every single time Judy called him (ever since they exchanged numbers about a year ago), he would pick up, no matter where he was or what he was doing. Booking a DUI suspect back at the station? He'd pick up no later than four or five rings. Sleeping? The vibration and ringtone that emulated from his phone would jolt him awake, and he'd answer within two rings; even if it was two in the morning! Perhaps the main reason why Judy was so startled to hear his voice in the form of a recording was because that was the very first time that Nick had not answered a call from her. Was it something to worry about? She had her doubts, but nevertheless still needed to reason with herself that something like this would be inevitable the _n_ th time she called him.

Judy noticed that one of the tears that cascaded from her cheeks landed on the screen of her phone. Wiping it off, she involuntarily opened up her photo library, which stored hundreds of photos that Judy captured while making the world a better place as a police officer. The first photo she tapped on, taken just a few days ago, exhibited Judy and Nick at the observation tower on the top of the Amazon Tower, the spiraling structure that guards Zootopia (and also happens to be the tallest building in the city). The trip was a mere coincidence; vising the observation deck was on Judy's bucket list for a hell of a long time. The main reason that she and Nick were at the tower in the first place was because of work. Called in to settle a domestic dispute from one of the flats in the building, they took a trip to see the city in awe once the fight was resolved. Nick, standing next to Judy cross-eyed and with his tongue out, made Judy giggle as she studied the photo. She also took notice of the city behind them, with each structure rising like a toothpick, inferior to the engineering and beauty of the Amazon Tower. It was, by far, one of her best days as an officer.

Out of the blue, Judy remembered the pair of headphones that rested in the right pocket of her pajamas. Pulling them out and plugging in, Judy took a nostalgic trip through the photo library alongside some select music. What made music special to Judy was its ability to speak to the animal soul, and how it could listen to whatever stories the soul had to say. It's a communication that lies within. One that can make happy days happier, strange days more comforting, and sad days…sadder? More reassuring? Reflective? Regardless, she selected some choice tracks to accompany her during her trip down memory lane.

 _Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away.  
Now it looks as though they're here to stay.  
Oh, I believe in yesterday._

One of her favorites: A photograph capturing Nick helping an elderly sheep to cross the road. She was unable to do so alone, and not a single soul on the street would do the deed with her. That is, until they stumbled upon her. The gesture was heartwarming and comforting to experience.

 _Suddenly I'm not half the one I used to be.  
There's a shadow hanging over me.  
Oh, yesterday came suddenly._

The Gazelle concert! Her favorite pop artist with her favorite fox? Truly a keeper. Hey may not have the same taste in music as much as Judy does, but attending the concert was one of the most noble things he has ever done for her. He didn't go to the concert to listen to music. He went there to make her happy. Judy's tear ducts began to swell up.

 _Why he had to go, I don't know, he wouldn't say.  
I said something wrong, now I long for yesterday._

Judy never knew that Nick could play the guitar until a few months ago. There he was, strumming away loosely to "Try Everything", Judy's favorite song. Although it was quite rusty and messy, she was able to make out the notes and sing along, in a sloppy manner as well. How special was that? A tear gently glided down her left cheek.

 _Yesterday, love was such an easy game to play.  
Now I need a place to hide away._

 _Oh, I believe in yesterday._

Flash, flash, hundred-yard dash and his speeding ticket. As surprising and humorous it was, the three were able to group together for a fun photograph for Nick's first day on the job. What made this photo so special to her? Not only did he volunteer to take it, but he grabbed ahold of her waist during the shot, an act that Judy thought was quite flirtatious.

 _Why he had to go, I don't know, he wouldn't say.  
I said something wrong, now I long for yesterday._

Judy's favorite photo in the photo library was taken about sixty-four days ago. Nick's birthday. She remembers that day as if it was yesterday. She was the only guest that was invited to his celebration. Such a lack of invitations surprised her quite a bit. Not Finnick, his parents, siblings, or even any of his other close friends! He didn't ask for much that day: just a fun, relaxing afternoon with his favorite rabbit at the beach and the amusement park. This photo flaunted Nick's reaction when Judy bought him a striking red and silver tie. His face was lit up like the sun; nothing could have made him happier that day. Another tear rolled down Judy's cheek.

 _Yesterday love was such an easy game to play.  
Now I need a place to hide away.  
Oh, I believe in yesterday._

The final photo she intersected was taken about twenty-four hours ago, in almost the exact same spot she was lying in. Before they started the awful movie Nick picked out, Judy secretly snapped a selfie of the two bundled up together. The expression painted on Judy's face was one of the brightest smiles in all of Zootopia, a statement that all of her friends and family could stand by. Staring into her eyes alone would be sufficient enough to warm anyone's heart.

Nick, on the other hand, had an empty smile. A seldom expression of his. He looked happy, but didn't _look_ happy. His face screamed out unhappiness, shame, and discomfort. Judy spilled several more tears upon realizing that pale, blank expression on Nick's face. It was the _Judy-I-don't-want-to-be-in-a-relationship_ kind of face. How did she not notice the subtle hint earlier?

' _I'm sorry. It just can't happen.'_

A frosty, electrical shockwave discharged down her spine, from head to toe upon having to again recite that phrase which killed her. Making herself repeat it was more painful than any she has ever experienced, and more painful than anything she _would_ experience. The phrase would rip through her flesh stronger than the strongest whip ever could. It would suffocate her more quickly than any asphyxiant could ever suck the life out of her. No disease or illness could replicate the pain she underwent.

' _One of the most painful things you could ever feel_ ,' her father once taught her, _'is the experience of loving someone, only to find out they don't feel the same way to you anymore._ '

Unable to hold back the tears, Judy buried her face into her pillow, weeping as softly as she could. Never minding her upset stomach anymore, all Judy could do was gloom on the realization that she was _friendzoned_. By golly she hated that word. The sound of it, the description of it, the experience that comes with it – she hated every aspect of it. Until she drifted off to sleep around thirty minutes later, Judy held on to the acquired vocabulary word, allowing itself to repeat on a loop inside her head, overriding the music that tried to counteract it.

* * *

"Got any sixes?"

"Hmmm?"

"For crying out loud," growled Finnick while snapping his fingers in front of Nick's face, "Do you have any freaking sixes?!"

"Uh…No. Go fish."

Finnick growled and leafed a card off the top of the deck, taking a sip of bittersweet golden whiskey-soda while doing so. Behind his cards, he displayed a threating and malicious look directly towards Nick.

Finnick's new apartment, in one of the poorest neighborhoods of Sahara Square, was no bigger than a standard, run-of-the-mill elementary school classroom. Although it was plenty of headspace for his short stature, Nick felt claustrophobic in the space. Being almost twice as tall as his friend and coworker, the ceiling was small enough to brush against the tips of his ears. Whenever he navigated his way around Finnick's home, Nick would need to mind the lighting fixtures, ceiling fans, and doorframes that he would otherwise run into.

The apartment itself wasn't all too special. It was a studio apartment. In the southeastern corner sat the small dining table (where they were playing cards), which could seat four at max. His miniature bed would be a few paces away, tucked between a window that overlooked Casablanca Road and his nightstand. The third counter (going counterclockwise) housed a stained and discolored sofa and a similarly worn coffee table. Accompanying the furniture was an old TV set, which must have been manufactured in the late eighties. Supported by four milk crates, the television had to pick up a signal with a coat hanger.

Completing the tour of the apartment was a kitchenette and its nearby liquor cabinet, which looked as if it was hundreds of years old. Despite its age, it looked very well-maintained. The doors were ornamented with beautiful colored glass. The aesthetic geometry of diamonds and triangles littered across the canvas, which complemented its orange and green hues. Nick wasn't too sure why he cherished it so much. The only time that Finnick ever mentioned the woodwork to him was several months ago when he was polishing its frame. He claimed that it was passed down over five or so generations. Perhaps the only reason why the liquor cabinet was so well-maintained was because his family was plagued by alcoholism, and Finnick was enough evidence to support such a claim.

Nick never liked being with Finnick when he drank, but never mentioned it to him. After a whiskey-soda or two, he personality would modulate from a normally bitter and wrathful fox to a more demonic and aggressive one; one that Nick never wanted to be involved with. He's seen his partner harass strangers on the street, get into fights with animals twice his size, and once even went as far as lighting cherry bombs in some of the city's trash cans during the middle of the night while under the influence. Perhaps it was the behavior of Finnick that persuaded Nick to seldom drink. Tonight, he chose to stick with soda water, which he occasionally sipped during their card game.

"Hello?! Are you fucking deaf?!" shouted Finnick.

"What? What'd I do?"

"You didn't hear me the last three times I called you? Do you have any aces?! Jeez, dude! Snap out of it! What's up with you today?"

"Calm down, Finnick. Uh, yeah I have two. Just take 'em!" growled Nick as he tossed the cards right at him. "There, you happy now?"

Instead of lashing out at Nick, Finnick's fuse ceased to ignite. He took a deep breath and blew cigar smoke right into Nick's face. Despite his best efforts, Nick couldn't help but cough as the smoke burned his eyes, nostrils, and (mildly) his throat. Cigars were almost as bad as alcohol; Nick chose to never smoke them despite constant peer pressure from Finnick.

"Yes. Thank you," he mocked.

The table momentarily felt silent and the two organized the remaining cards in their hand, with the occasional tick from a grandfather clock being the only sound in the apartment.

"So…how's your leg doing?" asked Nick.

"Oh, this crappy thing?" Finnick replied, resting a cast that covered half of his foot onto the table, "Well, let's say that it's just…what's the word I'm looking for… _ruthless_."

"How long have you had it? I mean, the gangrene. Not the cast."

"About a week and a half now. The doctors said it was some fucking bacterial infection that must have slipped into my body when I scrapped my knee quite a while ago. It didn't look too bad, so I just kind of let it be. Then just about a week ago, my leg hurt like Hell. Like, _really_ bad. Makes a gunshot feel like quite a tickle. Apparently I'm lucky that my leg won't be amputated."

"Good grief, dude! How did you manage to even cut yourself in the first place?"

"Just doing a little thievery in the Rainforest District," replied Finnick while exhaling another large cloud of cigar smoke. "Got myself a box of these…" he said while proudly displaying the delicacy in hand.

"Finnick…how much are these worth? They sure as heck don't look local to me."

"Damn right they're not. I've got a catalogue of rare cigars in the kitchen. These puppies? Imported straight from Cubana."

"Cubana?! Do you know how expensive those cigars must be?"

"Oh, just four hundred."

"FOUR HUNDRED DOLLARS?! For crying out loud, Finnick! You could get locked up for that kind of thievery! What were you thinking?!"

"Alright, hold your horses. Don't worry, I planned it all out. No one saw me."

"Yeah? Well what about traffic cameras?"

"Nick, do you think I'm retarded? I was wearing all black."

"I know you're not retarded, Finnick. But keep in mind I'm a _police_ officer. How are you going to provide a credible alibi to the police if, _when_ , they question you? Your small size will eliminate quite a few suspects, and they already have a criminal record on you."

"Don't worry about me, buddy! I've got the whole thing figured out. Plus, wouldn't you think they would already be coming after me if they thought I did it?"

"I imagine they will sooner or later. And you know that you just confessed a crime you did to a police officer, right?"

"Yeah, I know. I also know that as a friend and coworker, you wouldn't have the heart to turn me in."

Nick buried a paw into his face. "Sweet cheese and crackers…"

"For the love of everything that is holy, could you not turn into a fucking rabbit, Nick?" snapped Finnick with the sharp and biting attitude that he possessed all evening.

"What? Are you talking about Judy? Do you have a problem with her?!"

"Yeah, I have a problem with her. Trying to act like your girlfriend?! How childish!"

"For the tenth time, Finnick, we're not in a relationship! You know that. Pull your head together!"

"Bullshit, Nick. You've been with her for three quarters of the year or something like that? What, you think you can hide it from me?!"

"Well, clearly you've been mistaken. We even agreed on it today that we were going to stay as friends."

"Oh, _really_?" taunted Finnick.

"Yeah. Really."

"If you two were really just going to be friends, then why would she be calling you at this time of night?" he said while pointing a finger at Nick's vibrating phone, barely visible on the couch.

"Oh f-" whispered Nick as he jumped out of his seat. He dashed to the couch to see who was calling him.

Of course it was Judy.

Before he could even accept the call, it dropped without warning. "Damn…"

"Uh oh, did somewone not make it to his phoney-whoney? Oh noooo!"

"You know what, just shut up, Finnick. Let me call her back."

"Pssh. ' _Platonic friendship'_ my ass…"

That was the final straw.

Nick, in a savagely aggressive way, lunged towards Finnick. Not even his little sister taunted him like that as a young'un, and his teenage years were years spent in torture and hell thanks to her. Afore he could reach Finnick, Nick lost his balance and took a nasty spill on the wood floors. All of a sudden, he felt a swelling and pulsating headache wrapped around his cranium. By the second, his condition worsened, eventually to the point where he was seeing two Finnicks, his head was spinning, and he couldn't gather any strength to get up.

"W-wha-wheet the h-hell…" he stuttered.

An evil but playful laugh taunted his eardrums for what felt like eternity.

"Grain alcohol! In your soda! Ooh, I got you good, didn't I? Didn't I, Nick?"

The effects of his spiked drink, which never had the taste of ethanol, was beginning to numb his ability to think. Losing all sense of direction and reason, Nick couldn't even generate a response.

"Nick? You okay?"

Nothing.

"Ah, damn it. Too much booze…not again."

With his vision corkscrewing in almost every direction possible, Nick slowly grew nauseated and confused. The last thing he was able to recall before passing out was Finnick's comedic laughter. That son of a bitch pranked him again.

For some odd reason, his laughter sounded strikingly similar to Judy's. For a brief second as darkness swallowed his field of vision, he thought he was hearing Judy laugh.

What was he doing in her apartment?


	8. Blue Ink

"Coffee?"

The word stuck to Nick's ears like glue. Oddly enough, it felt sharp enough to pierce his eardrums, and rupture them open. Not long after Finnick asked, rather shouted, the question, Nick became quite uneasy with the irrational fear that his ears were filling up with blood.

"Hmm…?" he replied in a stewed and concerned tone. As his senses finally woke up, the fear diminished as quickly as it arose.

Nick's eyes were glued shut from the buildup of impurities in his eyes. Opening them would be quite difficult (and painful) unless he cleared the caked material that coated his eyelids. Gently, Nick navigated his hands to his eyes, scraping out anything relatively loose. The chore grew more frustrating when he had no choice but to rub the sleep out of his eyes. Each twist of his wrist would dislodge more of the gunk, with an occasional eyelash being plucked out in the process. Whenever one was pulled out, Nick would fell a sharp bite poke his eyebrow. Eventually, he managed to clear all the of the material out of his eyes. He slowly opened them and faced Finnick.

"I said, would you like some coffee?" he repeated. Thanks to the wheelchair he was sitting in while his leg recovered, Finnick looked almost half his size. His head, which seemingly poked out from the side of the bed, was almost hidden behind the mass of blankets that were laying on Nick.

"Coffee? Uh…sure."

"Alright. Do you want cream or sugar? Or black?"

Nick gently sat up. "Uh…black. Please."

"M'kay, it'll be out in a few."

Hearing the small footsteps tread away, Nick slowly sat up in bed. Finnick's bed. Thanks to how small it was, the bed exposed both Nick's feet and his face in open air. The air conditioning unit, which was lodged in a window directly to the left of his feet, was blasting frigid artic air all night long. From what it felt like, the cold blast could have come straight from TundraTown. His feet became cold and clammy, to the point where his toes were too stiff to even be wiggled around. A quick readjustment, and his feet were reimbursed with warmth and comfort underneath his blanket. The air conditioning also seemed to chill his nose as well. It was somewhat runny, and anything that condensated on its tip robbed mounts of heat from his face.

The dull and monotonous apartment possessed a shady, dappled personality that morning. The five or so windows littered across the apartment were all concealed by blinds and curtains. Only minuscule amounts of natural light found way into the apartment, creating a brownish-straw colored haze in the air. The color of the haze was augmented by both the walnut wood which decorated the apartment, and the ten dimly-lit lamps that served as the other source of light in the condo. These lamps, which were scattered about, looked about as old as the TV Finnick had. No two were alike, yet they all possessed a similar characteristic: they seemed to operate solely on antique lightbulbs. Each one would compete with one another to glimmer the most brilliant shade of orange light. It balanced any dreariness with an elderly welcome.

Nick glanced around the apartment, taking note of his surroundings and attempting to recall how he ended up in Finnick's bed. Continuing to move his eyes around, however, would induce a heavy and swelling headache. It carried the characteristic of drag; ever so slowly, Nick's body would gently lay back down to rest by force, as if he was being restrained by heavy lead weights. By the time he was laying back down, he felt like a prisoner in his own mind. The upwelling of pain that consumed his upper half held him against his will in the bed.

A gentle yet subtle aroma of coffee trickled up Nick's nostrils, which counteracted the volatile, biting odor of whiskey that originated from his shirt. Although he could seldom identify the flavor of a coffee by scent alone, the indistinct scent of hazelnut caught his attention that morning. Despite a sour stomach and a sick body, Nick's mouth watered at the smell of the drink. Perhaps the solution to an above-average hangover was simply a small dosage of caffeine, which he knew could alleviate the pain.

The consequence of the smell, however, was that it seemed to toy with his nervous system, allowing the headache to pronounce itself. The discomfort made Nick wonder if he was experiencing a migraine instead of a headache. If so, this wouldn't be the first. Although they were quite rare, he has experienced a fair share of Hell in the past, most recently after a stressful day at the station a couple of months ago. The once characteristic of his migraines, however, was that any trace of sound and light that he was able to detect would strangle his head, leaving him begging for a peaceful and dark environment. Since this wasn't the case, he was quite skeptical that a migraine was the culprit to his pain.

Nick instead envisioned his scalp as some sort of iceberg, and was the victim of several ice climbers, chipping away at his brain. With every passing second, the sharp ends would drill into the ice, creating fractures and chips that blasted across his skull.

 _Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap…_

Out of his control, the headache additionally restrained his ability to think clearly and perceive his surroundings clearly. Even with his eyes closed, Nick felt more like he was an astronaut, floating throughout space. As if he was thrusted out of a rocket in interstellar space, his mind was teased with false information of disarrayed barrel rolls and muddled corkscrews. It was, in a sense, a roller coaster ride from Hell. What made it so bad, however, was the fact that there was nothing in his power that he could do to stop it; nothing was able to stop his nonsensical mind from hallucinating this awful imagery. Nick started to fight a battle with the motion sickness that pursued.

"Finnick…D-did I drink too much last night _again_?"

"Waaay too much, dude. You practically drank yourself to sleep!" he shouted from the Kitchen.

"Ugh, son of a bitch…Define 'too much' for me, would ya?"

"Well, I didn't keep exact amounts, but I think you had around seven shots of whiskey and another five shots of tequila. So that's like what, a dozen or so? Sounds about right."

" _Twelve shots?_ I'm such an idiot…," mumbled Nick as he sunk his head into his pillow to close off his mind from reality.

"Yeah, it was pretty crazy dude. You were lecturing about your work or something like that. How it didn't pay enough, how it was incredibly demanding, and a whole bunch of nonsense. After talking about it for so long, you asked to spend the night, since you were _waaaay_ too shitheaded to drive. And, of course, being the nice guy I am, let you spend the night in my bed. You're welcome."

"Well, work has been a bit stressful recently…and yesterday was a pretty rough day as well," he communicated through the pillow.

"Yeah? Why was that?"

"You wouldn't want to year it…just a huge mess with one of my coworkers. I'll spare you the details."

"If you say so."

Nick's face was flushed with pink after hearing Finnick's story. "Good grief, I must have been a complete idiot. Finnick, I'm so, so sorry that I was a wreck last night," he slurred.

"Hey, hey, it's all good, bud! We all need to drink away our troubles at some point, am I right?" replied Finnick while setting a cup of coffee on the nightstand. He gently tugged at Nick's shirt to get his attention.

"I dunno…I guess so?"

"Drink up, you're sure as Hell going to need it at work today."

"Thanks. Speaking of work, what time is it?"

"Uh…Eleven forty-six."

"HOLY SHIT-" screamed Nick as he vaulted out of bed.

"Whoa…What's up?"

"I'm supposed to be at work in about fifteen minutes! Damn it, Finnick! Why the Hell didn't you get me up earlier?! You knew I had work today!" he shouted. Nick began pacing around the apartment, trying to reboot his foggy mind.

"Relax, man, alright! You were still wasted this morning. Do you really think I'd send you out of here when you've still got alcohol in your system?"

"Okay, and what the Hell is this?" Nick exclaimed, holding the bottle of the tasteless grain alcohol in plain view. "This isn't one of your ' _pranks_ ' where you spike my coffee again, is it?!"

"On a work day? Why would I do that? That's been there for a few days now. Could you just take a chill pill?"

"Alright, alright, fine. Listen, uh…could you please do me a favor?"

"Depends."

"Heads up!" Nick shouted as he hurled his keys to Finnick. "I can't go to work smelling like whiskey and cigar smoke. Could you _please_ head to my apartment and grab my uniform while I wash up?"

"Wash up? As in…use _my_ shower?"

Nick pleaded, "Come on, I can't be late again. My job could be in jeopardy if I'm late again. I'll buy you a drink down at Scarborough's sometime if you do it. _Please_."

Finnick let out a frustrating and rusty growl. "Fine, I'll do it. Just don't use any hot water, my bills are going through the roof."

"Thank you, Finnick! I promise I won't!", Nick exclaimed while jogging over towards the bathroom.

"Hey, where exactly is your uniform? Thanks to how close by you live, I can make the trip quick, I don't want to spend more than ten minutes gone. If I don't know where your uniform is, then you will sure as Hell be late for work."

Jetting into the bathroom while closing the door, Nick made gave a muffled response as he unbuttoned his shirt. "It's hanging up on a coat hanger once you walk in. Everything – hat, blouse, pants, badge – should all be there. Oh, and don't forget the shoes! The last thing I need is a lecture from Captain Buffalo Butt." The last sentence was a little clearer as the door slid open ajar.

Nick stumbled his way around the bathroom as he continued to undress, struggling to stay on his feet. He leaned against the bathroom counter and began massaging his scalp, where it felt like someone drove a rusty nail straight into his brain.

"Whatever, man. Just be out of the shower by the time I'll get back. No promises, but I'm shooting for ten minutes."

Grabbing his aviators and car keys, Finnick rolled himself out of the apartment, with his assigned task low on the priority list. It would take two of Nick's precious minutes alone to get out on the street in his van thanks to his immobility. He was quite blessed that his apartment was on the first floor.

* * *

Nick was never a good multi-tasker. Never could he ever play the piano with his lack of coordination; just a few simple and rusty songs on the guitar (including the all-too-familiar "Try Everything" and "Smoke on the Swamp"). School would always build his frustration thanks to his inability to focus both on the wrist-slitting lectures and the pile of pencil shavings that he would construct. Even as he transitioned to becoming big fox, trying to write out emails while taking notes during one of Bogo's presentations was next to impossible. Today was no exception.

His brain consistently blanked out, like a glitch on a computer, while he hastily got ready. In order to save time, he (tried to) bush his teeth while taking a shower, a strategy that has worked for him in the past. Hopefully, Finnick wouldn't mind if Nick secretly used his toothbrush to get ready. However, upon completely stripping his clothes off and setting foot in the miniature cubicle, enveloped on three sides by opaque glass and tile on the other, the dollop of toothpaste he slapped on moments ago slipped off the brush and splattered on the tile floor. With time being the deciding factor, Nick ultimately deciding against restocking the toothbrush with more paste. After deciphering the cubicle's bizarre shower faucet (which coincidentally looked as retro as Finnick's apartment), Nick substituted toothpaste with the cool, flat, and slightly bitter tap water. The low-grade water reminded him of the "promotion" by the water treatment plant recently. The advertisement, which ran across TV, radio, and covered hundreds of billboards across the city, claimed that the plant has improved the quality of the city's tap water by infusing it with minerals. Apparently, this "new and improved" water was supposed to improve taste, viscosity, and softness, but Nick never saw an improvement in the shitty water quality. Nevertheless, he would have to settle with using that water, which came out of a miniscule shower head about half the size of him. What was to expect? Finnick was a fun-sized fox, so what would a tall showerhead do for him? One he wetted the toothbrush, Nick coated his lower body in the arctic tap water. Fighting against the cold, he got to work.

What made brushing his teeth feel like a violation of a health code was the fact that the lack of toothpaste exposed several unwanted flavors that were either entrenched in the brush itself or from Nick's mouth. Without a sufficient supply of toothpaste to cancel out the repugnant odors and tastes, the toothbrush gave Nick an unpleasant taste-test of Finnick's mouth: tobacco, alcohol, and apparently moldy garlic, a rotting corpse, and a decomposing dumpster were the flavors he could make out. These vile tastes quickly promoted a sudden onset of nausea, which already came as a part of the hangover package. In the middle of hastily cleaning himself, Nick briefly dry-heaved. It didn't take very long afterwards to abandon the dental hygiene plan. Brushing his teeth with a toothbrush coated in an armada of filthy bacteria would probably only make him feel worse. He tossed the toothbrush aside, and let the gentle stream of water encumber his lower body. Squirting a splotch of blueish-green soap out of the first bottle that he could see, Nick scrubbed the fur on his lower chest with something that smelled as if he spent a holiday in some sort of tropical paradise. He aggressively scoured his fur, occasionally threading a few pieces of dirt and miscellaneous particles out of it while doing so.

Another, much more pronounced, dry heave.

Nick pulled himself together, and rinsed off his fur in the water. The soapy residue tricked its way down his abdomen, thighs, and knees. Helping himself to a refill of the soap, Nick began to work on his legs and eventually his arms, the next body parts in a regular routine. Continuing to work the muck out of his fur, a third overwhelming spell of nausea took control over him. He interrupted his cleaning duties, bracing himself for the foreseeable. Leaning against the tile of the shower, Nick leached a small amount of bile out of his mouth. He splashed a small mouthful of water in his face to get rid of the awful taste. By now, his arms were trembling in shock and fear. He returned to cleaning with himself, minding the possibility of once again becoming sick. His veins became saturated with adrenaline and his knees were also starting to shake. The headache could pronounce his heartbeat, which he could feel and hear every time his heart pumped more blood.

 _Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub._

A final upsurge of queasiness dropped Nick down to his knees. Now completely coated in frigid shower water, his abdomen reflexed and his jaw slowly began to relax. After the long five seconds of being restrained by sickness, Nick upchucked almost all of the contents in his stomach in two simple gag reflexes. Neither of them were smooth; the violent contractions of his body expelled sour stomach acid, trace amounts of water, and the indistinguishable taste of alcohol in abnormally rough and large amounts; one of the most painful ways possible. There was a silver lining, however: the vomit, although an ugly shade of greyish-white, possessed a clear and smooth texture. This allowed it the ability to flow down the drain without leaving any trace of sight or smell. Upon recovering from the gruesome experience, Nick pressed on and began to use soap and an excess supply of water to expedite the drainage of the bodily fluids from the floor of the shower. He would occasionally pause to dry heave a few more times. Although he had expelled everything out of his stomach, his stomach had reason to lurch out anything and everything that could enter. Nick resumed washing his aching body after the deed was done, taking periodic pauses to rinse his mouth of the bitterly sour bile that seemed like it was never going to leave his mouth.

A bitterly cold and painful shower, a so-called shower from Hell, was laid to rest once Nick was quite confident he would not become sick again. Although his stomach felt somewhat better, Nick still had a horrible headache and a terrible spell of dizziness. Grabbing a small, dirty towel hanging on a rack outside the shower, he hurriedly dried himself off to minimal satisfaction. He slowly guided himself to the bathroom sink once again, and coated his armpits in a thick layer of Finnick's deodorant, hoping it would further mask the smell of alcohol that drenched his clothes. Realizing he left the toothbrush sitting in the shower, Nick quickly returned to the cubicle to retrieve it. Swimming in a small puddle of water, he bent down and retrieved the toothbrush while styling the fur on his head with his hands (a common practice for foxes). A spell of bad luck once again pursued Nick, as the brush also smelled like his stomach. Not wanting to pose another risk of being sick and being beaten the shit out of by Finnick, he tossed the toothbrush out the window, where it would never be discovered by anyone anytime soon. He did it in just the nick of time too; just after throwing the brush away, Finnick walked in through the main door.

"Yo, you've got three minutes before noon! You better hurry your ass up if you want to get to work before you're chopped liver!"

"K, coming!"

Sliding his underwear back on in one swift move, Nick glided out of the bathroom and dashed towards the front door, where he saw Finnick unloading the cargo on the counter of the kitchen, right beside the front door.

"Hey, I know you're going to hate me for this, but I never found your pants. Since I know you police officers wear almost all blue, I got a pair of jeans that were sitting in your room. But I did get you that water bottle that Judy gave you! I filled it up too, since water can help with hangovers," he said holding a very expensive but beautiful canteen.

"You never found my pants? What do you _mean_ , you never found my pants?! I put them right there, with the rest of my uniform! How could you not see them!?"

"Hey, you know what, man? Back off! Be happy that I got what you wanted, you ungraceful piece of _shit_!"

"You're a bloody idiot…" mumbled Nick.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I said you're a bloody idiot! You know wh-" Nick cut himself off to take a break on bashing Finnick. He had no other choice but to put on the jeans that Finnick gave him, and proceeded to do so. "I gotta go. Think with your head the next time someone asks you to do a favor."

Finnick didn't respond to Nick's attack. He simply walked over to the kitchen to sip his lukewarm coffee, stowing away some of the items that were sitting out, including the bottle of grain alcohol.

After putting on his blouse and placing his badge in his back left pocket of the pair of jeans, Nick jogged over to the bed and downed the cup of coffee in three or four massive gulps. Grabbing his aviators, Nick saw a lantern sitting underneath the nightstand that the coffee sat on. _If I had three wishes,_ he thought, _one of them would be that this coffee…this dirty, stinky coffee…will not come back up today_. With only two minutes to get to the station (normally a ten-minute commute), Nick hustled to get out of the apartment. As he opened the door and felt the warm blast of the dusty desert morning air, he made one last remark to Finnick.

"By the way…I've been thinking. Since you know I don't like whiskey whatsoever, did you really expect me to believe that little story you told me this morning about how I passed out from drinking too much of it? You may be able to dab it on my clothes, but can you explain to me how my _vomit_ this morning was not golden-brown?"

Before even allowing Finnick to reply, Nick closed the door on him and quickly hustled his way to work.

* * *

"Fangmire."

"Present."

"Francine?"

"Here!"

"Higgins."

"Present."

"Hopps."

An unusual turn of silence blanketed roll call.

"Hopps…?"

Still nothing. Bogo took off his reading glasses and glanced over at the spot where Judy would sit each and every morning during roll call. The empty chair right before Bogo almost caught him by surprise; not only was Judy absent, but her partner Nick also didn't show himself. The chief glanced at his clipboard, and saw a small message loosely scribbled in red ink next to Judy's name:

 _C/O sick. -B. Clawhouser_

It was very unusual to see a loyal officer such as Judy out sick, who only missed one day of work many months ago due to some sort of family emergency or something like that. He didn't remember any details; keeping track of the one hundred plus officers in the station wasn't like stealing candy from a kit.

Glancing down the list even further, Bogo didn't see an excused absence written next to Nick's name. Bogo growled under his breath, squeezing the pen in his paw in frustration. The pressure he set upon it caused the body of the pen to fracture. In the blink of an eye, navy blue ink splattered across the pedestal, docket, attendance, and several other documents that were in the line of fire. Small fragments of fiberglass were littered across the pedestal. And by the time all of the documents absorbed the musky ink, both Bogo and his filings looked like some sort of monotone Jackal Pollock painting. The incident stirred a muffled mix of giggles amongst the officers.

"SHUT IT!" shouted Bogo with the slam of a fist.

The room grew stiff within microseconds. Any one mammal could have heard the sound of a pin dropping.

"If any mammal utters a single syllable, a single _peep_ , they will be on parking duty for two weeks. _Do not_ even try to test me. Is that understood?"

Nothing.

"Is that understood?" he repeated in a much more abrasive tone.

A drone of the phrase "Yes, sir," hesitantly aroused from the officers.

Once he regained control of his employees, Bogo gently thrusted any loose piles of ink off the attendance sheet, which was barely decipherable. Even though the damage to the documents was done, the chief was not a mammal who enjoyed a weakened image. Any minor inconveniences, any small mistakes, or the even the subtlest signs of weakness must go unnoticed.

' _You never want to let them see that they get to you,'_ he once overheard Officer Wilde mention a while back. The last thing he needed was his inferior coworkers to see him in his true, _exposed_ state.

Bogo gifted himself a couple of seconds to regain his composure.

"Now, where were we? That's right. Officer Mitchell?"

Before Mitchell, the new zebra that was hired a couple of weeks back, could even emit any vocalizations, the sound of silence in the room was shattered by the abrupt sound of the back door slamming open. The shockwave startled everyone in the room, including Bogo. Standing on the other side of the doorframe was none other than Officer Nicholas Piberius Wilde.

"Of-ficer Wilde i-is present," panted Nick. Resting his hands on his kneecaps, hidden underneath a dirty pair of jeans, he guzzled any and all of the oxygen surrounding him, and took a small sip of water from the water bottle. After catching his breath, Nick cautiously walked into the room, with several horrified and surprised glares peering right into him. What made Nick feel very uneasy about, however, was the look on Bogo's face. Instead of looking furious and outraged, the buffalo possessed a look of disbelief, as if Nick committed an act of unprecedented taboo. Despite the ominous threat that hung heavy in the air, Nick leaped onto the chair he always sat on during roll call.

Just like Bogo, Nick was in disbelief upon summiting the chair and discovering that Judy was not there. Pretending that she was insignificant to the day's tasks ahead of him, he gingerly focused his eyes on the chief, who was continuing to stare into his soul with an unforgettable look. The uneasy calm in the room resettled.

"Nicholas Wilde," growled the chief, "why don't you explain to me and our other officers why you are late for roll call for the third time in the past two weeks. And why the Hell are you out of uniform? Jeans are unacceptable!"

A lump ripened Nick's throat. Whenever the chief called anyone out by their first and last name, just like his mother did when he was a child, then he was already treading on very thin ice. One misstep could jeopardize his career as an officer. Thinking on his feet, Nick formulated what he believed was a legitimate and reasonable response.

"I apologize, sir, but…Well…I…Was stuck in traffic…Again! Gosh, you know what I'm talking about, right? The freeway can get cluttered up pretty quickly at this time of day."

"You were stuck in traffic. _Again_?"

"Y-yes sir."

"Alright, well then tell me this, Wilde," threatened Bogo while he paced across the blackboard, "How could you possibly be late to work because of traffic, when there are no backups on any of Zootopia's interstates?"

"I…I beg your pardon?"

Without breaking eye contact, Bogo pulled up a paused frame from the Zootopia News Network on the TV, which showed a map of the city's traffic as of about six minutes ago. All across the city, patches of dark and light green were littered across every single one of Zootopia's major roads. Confused and in shock, Nick grew nauseated once again.

"I believed you the first two times when you lied to me, Nick. But it turns out your honesty is a lot more tarnished than I thought it was. Especially for a fox. Showing up late for duty three times is bad enough, but having to _lie_ about it? Do I need to remind you what one of the qualities that we must possess as officers? One that you clearly can't demonstrate?!"

"Integrity…sir," chocked out Nick.

"I'm sorry?"

"Integrity," he said much louder.

"Say it so the whole room can hear you."

It took a couple of seconds to build the courage to respond to Bogo's task. "Integrity!"

"Do you have anything else to say, Wilde?"

Feeling the bile rise in his throat, Nick glanced down at the table in front of him, overwhelmed with guilt. No sum of money or wish in the world would convince him to make eye contact with the chief once more. He took a few seconds to fight the urge to throw up again.

"No, sir."

"Alright. Because of your lack of honor and reliability to all of us, I'm putting you on a one-month suspension, without pay. You are to not report for duty during that time. Do you understand?"

It felt as if every atom in Nick's body exploded. He could barely move a muscle, speak, or even breathe. His gut grew tight and his throat swelled up to the point where he could barely breathe. Both of his ears grew hot, and his heart rate accelerated.

"O-one month?" he choked out.

"Yes."

"But sir, I have bills to pay, and…and a child to feed! You can't just do this to me!"

Bogo walked back to the pedestal, taking another deep and lingering breath. "You can't bullshit a bullshiter, Wilde. You clearly stated you don't have any children when you applied for this damn job! Do you think I'm some sort of an imbecile? What other lies do you have in store for me today?!"

"But sir-"

"Two months' suspension. Still without pay. Say one more lie, one more _word_ …and you will be suspended _indefinitely_. Hand over your badge and gun."

Nick could only hope that his last resort was that Judy would miraculously burst through the door and talk Bogo out of the suspension. It would parallel the time he stood up for her shortly after they meet, right before Judy was forced to resign after not solving a missing mammal case. Although extremely unlikely, he had some sort of speculation, some lingering hope, that she could somehow walk in at the right time and would sort this out. However, as he slowly pulled his badge out of his back pocket and his weapon from his holster, Judy never showed herself. There was no point in stalling additional time. Shamefully, Nick gave up his identity as a police officer to the chief.

"Get the Hell out of my sight. When you get back, bring your integrity and honesty with you," barked Bogo, signaling him to the door.

Nick glided off the chair and took the slow and dreary walk of shame to the door. About six feet from the doorframe, however, his stride slowly decelerated and eventually came to a standstill. He continued to face forward, however, too fearful to even glance at his boss.

"What are you doing?" snarled the chief.

Nick turned around, mumbling, "I forgot my water bottle."

"You can get your water bottle when you come back for duty. You are no longer welcome here. Out!"

"Sir, I need my water bottle! I'm not feeling well today!" pleaded Nick.

"I already told you, Wilde! I'm not going to believe your bullshit and fairy-tale lies. Get the Hell out of here, or you'll never see it again!"

"Not without my water bottle! You can't just take that away from me!"

As if a standoff was underway, the two officers stared straight into each other's eyes. Nick's bold and brave (if not stupid) move left him frozen in fear. He felt trapped, with the only restraint being his mind and body. In the brief ten seconds that followed his command, Nick envisioned his life as a fired police officer. How would he explain this to Judy? His mother? How will he make a steady income once again? Would Finnick be willing to work with him again? Selling popsicles by the pound seven days a week?

Bogo calmly walked over to the table which spotlighted the water bottle. It was a high-quality one, indeed: the pale-blue glass that defined its shape was protected with a beautiful lattice structure of shiny, clean titanium metal. It was quite possibly the most beautiful glassware (if it should legally be classified as so) he has ever had the privilege to hold. Bogo grasped it with an iron fist.

"Fine. You want your Goddamn water bottle? Then fucking take it!" he said while hurling the flask straight at the fox.

Nick didn't have time to react to the projectile that was going straight for his face. In a brief instant, the bottle crashed against his temple, shattering the glass and denting the delicate titanium that it was wrapped in. The sharp and jagged edges of the glass ruptured and tore open Nick's skin, which leached fresh, warm blood from the site of impact. The force of the throw knocked him unconscious instantly, and he fell straight onto his back, still as a statue.

The escaping blood that left his cranium pooled on the ground right next to him, staining the carpet and any shards of glass that were nearby. The pool slowly grew bigger and bigger with each passing second. The blood was exiting his body at such an alarming rate that the indistinguishable smell of metallic iron clogged Bogo's nostrils just seconds after he attacked Nick. The concentration of the odor continued to grow incredibly strong, sending Bogo in a spell of lightheadedness. Never before has he ever seen so much blood accumulating so quickly.

" _Oh, shit_ …" mumbled Bogo. He glanced over at his colleagues, who were motionless and staring at either him or Nick in _complete_ disbelief and shock. Francine, the elephant in the room, passed out upon witnessing the gore and violence.

"No…no, no, no!" cried the chief. He ran over to Nick, instantly regretting what he just did. "Oh, please…please don't do this!"

He bent down and tried to shake Nick awake, but to no prevail. Violently propelling his shoulders forwards and backwards only seemed to exacerbate the bleeding. There was little hope in restoring Nick's consciousness; he was submerged in a very deep sleep.

Bogo tore off his blouse (which exposed his dirty undershirt), and kneeled down beside the fox's head. Feeling the cold blood pooled at his knees, Bogo desperately pressed the cloth against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding as much as he could. What made the experience so traumatic, however, was the thought that his medical strategy was scarcely working; he could feel the warmth of fresh blood crawl up his fingertips.

"CALL NINE ONE ONE!" cried Bogo as he turned around towards the other officers. "GIVE ME AN AMBULANCE! Ah, son of a bitch…wake up, Nick! Wake up! Please, wake up! Oh, gosh what have I done?"

* * *

By the time paramedics arrived on the scene three minutes later, Nick's bleeding had momentarily ceased. A minute pulse was detected by one of the doctors as they loaded him on the stretcher.


	9. Parlsey

"CLEAR THE HALLWAY!"

"Let's go, move it, move it, move it!"

"Copy, we are currently entering the ICU."

"What does his pulse read?"

"Uh…thirty beats per minute, holding steady."

The doors to the ICU of the Serengeti Regional Medical Center plowed open, making way for a brand new patient being wheeled in on a stretcher. Four tigers, all dressed in turquoise green, piloted an unconscious the patient throughout the vast and endless corridors of the hospital. One of the nurses was at the back of the stretcher, navigating the group through the treacherous maze. He had to be cautious; letting the vessel drift, even slightly to the left or right, could put it on a collision course with some unlucky civilian. He was also in charge of directing traffic in front of the group, shouting orders like a drill sergeant at the nearby military academy. To his left, another nurse was dressing the patient's wound. The turbulent ride, however, truly tested her ability to refurbish injuries. And with very limited supplies at the moment, the most she could do was to dab the wound with cotton balls soaked in isopropyl alcohol. The third doctor, who assisted in pushing the stretcher, was assigned to supply the patient with emergency oxygen. She would have to use her best coordination skills to keep the mask in-line with the patient's mouth and nose. Whenever her paws were jerked off to the side, the foggy mixture of oxygen would trickle into the atmosphere momentarily, until she realigned the mask once again.

Andrea, the fourth nurse involved, monitored his health status from afar, jotting down notes to make arrangements for the ICU.

"How's his breathing?" she asked.

"Rather unsteady; his breaths are quite irregular."

Taking advantage of her excellent multitasking abilities, Andrea scribbled down some notes while continuing to dodge any and every obstacle that intersects with the group's trajectory.

"Alright. When we arrive, I want to administer ten milligrams of norepinephrine to account for blood loss and low blood pressure. And…let's give him five milligrams of epinephrine to ensure no more bleeding continues. If we can get that in him sooner rather than later, then we can introduce a blood substitute from the IV stand. Tell the staff that while they dress the wound, I'll be preparing the isotonic solution. Let me know if either his blood pressure or his breathing gets worse, and we can add more hormones or medicines."  
"Yes ma'am."

"Shit – OUT OF THE WAY!" shouted Andrea as she diverted the stretcher from a negligent bystander.

"Good grief. Did Medical Evac administer anything, or did they just dress the wound?" she shouted.

No response from any of the nurses.

"How's his wound looking?!"

"The bleeding has calmed down, but there are still major signs of swelling and bruising. Evac told me it could be a fractured skull."

" _Cheese and crackers_ …Let's get him cleaned up as soon as possible and get him over to radiography."

After rounding another corner, the nurses rolled the patient into room 152IC and positioned his stretcher in between a matrix of medical supplies: surgeon's tools, medicines, antibiotics, syringes, and an array of tongue-twisting chemicals. Andrea, the last animal to enter the room, pushed the sliding door closed. With a flick of a switch, the glass wall that displayed a view of the hallway turned opaque and blurry within a couple of seconds. Despite the privacy, the room grew somewhat dark, and a network of lamps put her brand new patient in the spotlight.

"Alright, let's take a look," mumbled Andrea while slipping on a pair of baby blue nitrile gloves over her paws and a mask over her nose and mouth. She's worked in the ICU for quite some time. She was an experienced and well trained nurse, pursuing to get her doctorate in medicine within the next few weeks. Being exposed to animal anatomy for such a long time numbed her senses of disgust and agony; broken bones, lacerations, collapsed lungs…they were all a part of a day in the life. As a matter of fact, there was only one occasion that truly shook her the core. Being in 152IC always triggered harsh, violent, and tragic memories for the tiger. It was a test of courage and strength to just stand there without rehearing screams, cries, and disembodied voices. Andrea felt cursed every time she has to step inside the room, as if she was stepping into the corridors of Hell all over again. Reliving the events she saw in that very room many, many years ago will haunt her until the day she dies. Half the battle of being in that room was trying to hide the memories under a stern and powerful poker face.

"Corey…would you mind getting me the norepinephrine and epinephrine from the cabinet? Oh, and two syringes with it?" she requested.

"Yes, ma'am."

Grabbing a small pair of tweezers, Andrea began to pull shards of glass that were drilled into the laceration. Some were relatively easy to remove, but others were buried deep into the warm, moist flesh and required excessive force to be yanked out. What concerned Andrea the most was how deep some of the glass was buried. If the damage was truly that extensive, there is always the possibility, the fear, that her patient would have a fractured skull.

"Here you go, Andrea," said Corey while delivering her the tray of medical goods. Within the blink of an eye, two small jars of clear liquid and their respective syringes were presented right in front of her. Pausing the extraction of the debris, Andrea grabbed ahold of the syringes and separately extracted the hormones out of the miniature glassware. She then injected both of them, one after the other, into the patient's arm. What made the injections relatively easy for Andrea was how she could dismiss the worry that the patient would flinch or jump after puncturing their skin with the needle. But because on this occasion, the stars aligned. Because she was injecting the medicine into the patient's body while he was unconscious, there was no need to worry about him jumping or flinching.

"Alright, I just injected the norepinephrine and epinephrine…it shouldn't take much longer than a couple of minutes or so before any excess bleeding begins to stop. Can we please get some blood pressure readings pronto when you hook him up?"

A melting pot of affirmatives later, Andrea resumed the extraction of glass shards out of the fox's scalp. One after the other, she collected the fragments and set them in a pile off to the side, just in case. Chances are that they will be tossed, unless the patient wants a free hospital souvenir or the ChemLab needs them analyzed, both scenarios that only occur once in a blue moon.

"Corey…are you doing anything important right now?" cried Andrea, shouting across the room.

Halting the disposure of used glassware and syringes, Corey glanced around and made eye contact with Andrea. "Not now, what's up?"

"Could you do me a favor and get the patient's emergency contacts notified? We seem to have this poor fella under control, so it's probably best to reach out to family."

"Right on it," he gladly proclaimed, busting a cheap jog to the doorway.

"By the way," he added on his way out, "Evac said they didn't interject him with anything. Just thought you'd know."

Andrea chuckled at his wit and charm. "Alright, hustle up, you dork!"

* * *

" _Feline…All the things that I did…You need to understa-"_

 _"If I have to hear…One more time…That you did this for the family…"_ interjected Feline White, tears streaming down her null and numbed face.

" _I did it for me."_

Walter's wife could do nothing but deliver a look of surprise, shock, and confusion.

" _I liked it. I was good at it. And…I was…really…"_

Heavy suspense.

" _I was alive._ "

Judy's sick day was a fantastic opportunity to catch up on binge-watching her favorite TV shows. Her abdominal from last night settled down significantly, which was a major relief. Despite her overall better condition, she nevertheless played it safe and stayed home. The last thing she wanted to do was spread any possible infections at the ZPD; they would turn the entire facility upside down within a few days. Regardless if it was because of perhaps some virus, food poisoning...even Nick…, she felt compelled to stay home.

Thus far, she was enjoying a rare but satisfying lazy day: streaming videos on her phone, feasting on a strict diet of ginger ale and saltine crackers, and…relaxing? It was difficult to tell if Judy was in some sort of nirvana or not. Despite her comfort and her carefree nature that day, something still felt rather bittersweet. Like an itch on her back that just won't go away, her mind would annoy her about something that just wasn't right. What made the sensation so bizarre, however, was that she _knew_ what the itch was, she just wasn't willing to _scratch_ it.

Nick was in her head the past day and a half. She was borderline _obsessed_ with the damn fox. The emotional (and perhaps) physical pain she was enduring simply wouldn't go away. All the dreams, the envisions, the happiness…gone. All because of a misunderstanding, a miscommunication between the two. It was a pill Judy was having an incredibly difficult time swallowing, especially since she always believed he had such a strong romantic drive towards her as well. What, with the snuggling, texts, and things he has said…What kind of cruel joke was this? What was he trying to do with her? Toy with her? Play hard to get? Distance himself? Even as far as breaking off the friendship?

Judy realized that she may never understand, but remembered herself that despite what he feels towards her, she will always love him. No matter what he does or who he is. It's just a matter of time until he feels the same.

And then there was the missed phone call…

Interjecting her television streaming was an incoming phone call, which vibrantly flashed her screen and replanted an annoying earworm that was her ringtone. It threw Judy off guard; realizing she put herself into a trance for the past few minutes and missed lots of important dialogue only became apparent when her phone blasted the awful bunny-themed jingle. She was quite perplexed at the caller ID, which was some unknown number that came from Savanna Central. Shad no contacts in the area whatsoever, and was quite assured the ZPD was not trying to get a hold of her like this. She was hesitant, but decided to see who was on the other line.

"H-hello?...Yes, this is Judy….I-I'm sorry?...He's _where_?...Oh, goodness! What-…What happened?...Oh God…Is he okay?!...Is he going to be okay?!...No, no, no, dammit!...This can't be happening!...Okay, I'll try to calm down…Yes…I'm on my way…Yes, thank you."

Judy exploded out of bed and rushed to dress herself with the first outfit within arm's reach: a ZPD Police Academy T-shirt and an old, wrinkly pair of running shorts. Despite the loose clothing, Judy grew increasingly frustrated at how difficult it seemed to get dressed, which she figured must have been the rush. She struggled to put on the shirt, which took a couple of tries due to her negligence of accidentally slipping her head through the arm sleeves. Putting on the shorts was no walk in the park either; Judy tripped over herself when trying to guide her legs through the openings. After catapulting to the ground, scraping her knees in the process, she nearly screamed in dire pain and frustration. Her eyes swelled up with hot, boiling tears that nearly spilled over. She grasped one of her stuffed animals that fell of the bed next to her and tossed it across the room in an act of rebellious frustration. Despite what was just a small trip-up, Judy felt hopeless and helpless to recover. An upsetting brew of sadness and fear trickled down her spine and pinned her to the ground, exhausting every smidgen of energy in her body. The stereotype of being an emotional bunny sunk in. Coping with such a broad spectrum of emotions in just forty-eight hours was difficult for her. Judy laid for a couple of minutes on the grown, wallowing in a personal mire of despair and misery.

As she gloomed, staring off to a shadowy part under her bed, her eyes stumbled upon a small canister, wrapped in a thin layer of dust and spider webs. It tugged at her curiosity due to some sort of familiar resemblance. Stretching her arm under the bed, Judy grasped the aluminium canister with her index finger and cautiously rolled it to her. Out of all things that was under that bed, she was able to uncover the fox repellent. The one her father gave to her about a year ago as she set off on her own adventure. Staring at the pathetic, pink canister brought back a sense of warmth and comfort for Judy. Not only did it remind her of the first case that she cracked with Nick, but it reminded her of how she was blessed with such a friendly and caring fox. She grasped the canister like her life depended on it, fighting back the tears of frustration and agony that continued to build.

Allowing herself calm down seemed to redeem her energy and motivation to keep moving. Taking a couple of deep, turbulent, and variable breaths, she got herself back up, sliding the fox detergent in her back pocket. Dusting minute particles off her shirt, she slipped on some run-of-the-mill sandals, grabbed her keys, phone, and a book, and briskly walked out the door.

* * *

 _"Alright, gentlemammals, showdown. Show me your cards."_

Floating in an alternate dimension, an alternate reality, Nick found himself back at the casino he was in just a couple of nights before. It almost caught him by surprise, as reoccurring dreams were fitful occurrences for him. What made the experience even more bizarre for Nick, however, was his ability to think and allow thoughts to ebb and flow through his head. Glancing down at the full house in his hand, Nick possessed the ability to move his arms and his body. He was quite astonished and flabbergasted.

He was lucid dreaming.

Taking advantage of the situation, Nick glanced around the dream sequence, taking in the surroundings. The casino, however, had a much more dreaded feel than it did from the vibrant and colorful feel in which he previously recalled. There was no laughter to be heard. There were no conversations floating in the atmosphere. The hot and arid climate in the room was cold and stiff. The most explicit part of the experience was the atmosphere itself. What should be a beautiful exhibit of neon lights, vibrant decorations, and assortments of balconies and walkways was replaced by a monotone, eerie dark violet haze that hung heavy in the air. Floating around like stars in a galaxy were vital components to a poker game: playing cards, chips, and money. Not only did this douse him with an inexplicit feeling of sorrow and agony, but it felt as if this smog was closing in on the table, swallowing any animal, slot machine, or margarita in sight while it treaded lightly towards the table. The air around him had a concentrated odor of thyme, as if invisible shavings of the spice were being burned all around him.

Nick redirected his attention back towards the table, which was still awaiting the reveal of his full house. Cautiously resting his two cards on the table, the revelation sparked a small round of applause in the audience that continued to surround the table. Although feeling confident about the power of his hand, Nick once again grew dreary upon glancing over at Bogo. His black and menacing eyes were lingering…analyzing his entire body. Every single move. Every single twitch of the eye. Every single _thought_.

Without warning, Nick's cards on the table levitated and slowly drifted away, joining the matrix of materials that floated about them. Each card would deviate from one another and carve its own path, corkscrewing and gyrating carefree. Although Nick was mesmerized by the phenomena, no one else in the dream, not even Judy, broke eye contact with the unfolding match. Not only was Nick fearful of their behavior, but of the purple smoke which began devouring anyone standing on the outside of the gathering. Yet still, no one was batting an eye. The spotlight was shifted to the one animal who had yet to reveal his cards: Chief Bogo.

 _"Sir, show us your hand_ ," requested Otterton.

Slowly twitching his head to the dealer, the devilish-behaved buffalo let his cards fall flat on the table; all of them landing face up. Everyone leaned in, examining what the seemingly possessed animal had.

One pair. He held, in his hand, two queens. No full house, no four pair, no straight flush. Somehow, Bogo thought he could just bluff his way to victory.

Just two queens, bearing spades and hearts. Unbelievable.

Another layer of the audience was swallowed by the purple haze.

Nick's state of mind grew quiet. The silence that encumbered him spoke louder than words. Bogo rotated his head back to Nick.

" _Help me,_ " he said in a menacing but pleading tone.

" _Help me."_

Nick sat motionless as the psychedelic experience took control of his head.

" _Help me…help me…help me…help me…help me…help me…he-"_

The spontaneous cries for help petrified Nick back into reality. He reflexed the upper half of his body roughly twenty degrees upwards from the horizontal. His body, however, didn't allow him to go much higher; a painful and pronounced drill was piercing the left side of his head, much worse than what his hangover ever produced. He rested his hand on the pain, and was shocked to feel bandages where fur should be. Alarmed, he felt his scalp, realizing that the bandages ribboned across his entire head. His left ear was constantly ringing with a drone, one that would not go away no matter how hard he covered his ears. Nick's right ear, however, picked up something much more ominous and alarming.

 _Beep beep…beep beep…beep beep…beep beep…_

Nick opened his eyes and frantically looked at his surroundings. The heart rate monitor, the medicine cabinet, an IV stand…

He was in the hospital.

The constant string of beeps from the heart monitor exponentially increased as Nick grew upset and weary of his surroundings. An upsurge of questions filled his head, which all related to the common theme of how the Hell he got in the hospital. There was no memory that he could revive that offered an explanation of his recent whereabouts! The last thing Nick could remember was rushing to get to roll call, already several minutes late thanks to a brutal late-night prank by Finnick. ' _Did I get into an accident? Did something happen at the ZPD? Was I injured while on duty?'_

Nick rested his head on the pillow of the spacious and luxurious hospital bed. Although it had a rather pungent and unpleasant odor to it, the hospitality contented Nick. He was dressed in some rather old patient robes that resembled the beautiful colors of an aqueous oasis in Sahara Square, where the vibrant palm trees complemented the turquoise waters that they depended on for survival. The more he settled into the bed, the more relaxed he became. The relaxation, however, was bittersweet.

The room he was in was relatively dark. The only light that showed signs of life, which originated on the left side of his body, was a loud shade of white light gleaming straight onto his face. Although it didn't pierce his eyes, the light was quite annoying. He slowly reached his paw up and barely grasped the lantern. Pulling it down towards him, Nick blindly fumbled for any sort of light switch; one that could either lower its intensity or cut its power altogether. Thanks to the inability to see or feel any cues of a light switch, Nick gave up the fruitless attempt and set aside the light off to his left, exposing a dark corner of the room. The thrust gave Nick's eyes mercy to adjust to the realm of darkness that surrounded the rest of the room. His peripheral vision, however, caught an unnatural shade of blue in the corner that the light was directed towards. Glancing over, a rabbit manifested itself right before his eyes.

The visitor surprised Nick, thus the pace of the heart monitor again picked up, getting faster and faster with each pump of adrenaline his body would excrete. It reached a climax, however, when he noticed that it was not even awake. Originally thinking that it was a doctor, it didn't take very long for Nick to read the flamboyant yellow letters on the shirt that spelled out ZPD. Feeling much more relieved, Nick slipped a warm smile. It was Judy Hopps.

He continued to gaze at her, perplexed as why she was there. The only explanation that he could offer was that they notified her of this mystery trip to the hospital. After all, he did list Judy Hopps as an emergency contact when applying for the ZPD.

The cute little bunny was spread out across two hospital chairs that were shoved in the corner of the room. Her ears were dropped over her eyes, shielding them from the light. Her nose occasionally twitched as she rhythmically inhaled and exhaled. Nick seldom found things like these adorable, but he couldn't resist letting out a small little chuckle. In one of her hands, she was holding a copy of _Nineteen Eighty-Fur_ , which Nick actually recommended to her a couple of weeks ago. Picking out the little details, Nick suspected that she must have been there for quite a while. Not only did she have a severe case of bed-head, but parts of her shirt were soaked from droplets of saliva that would pool up once she drifted off. A wall clock that hung just above her read seven fifty-two.

Any initial surprise of her encounter has now translated into warmth and comfort. Being in a hospital was a strange and scary experience on its own, with the exotic medical equipment and the unfamiliar faces of the hospital staff. Knowing that his closest friend was by his side eased his mind. Continuing to admire her devotion to his own safety and well-being sparked something inside Nick. It wasn't one that he necessarily felt physically, but one that he felt emotionally. It was an experience he never felt before, so it momentarily perplexed him. Why would he suddenly feel some sort of warmth, some sort of arousal, some sort of _attraction_ , whenever he gazed at her?

The sparks ignited some small shavings of wood.

All the things that she did for him… Saving his life… Giving him a new job and a stable income… Allowing him to spend the night at her place… The pancakes…

A couple of macroscopic flames erupted within the small pile of shavings, and would continue to feast on the wood as more showers of sparks ignited around them.

Nick focused his attention on her anatomy. He started to admire the geometry of her body. Her aesthetic face, curved ears, eclipsed eyes… They all reminded Nick of times in his youth when his mother would take him on hiking trips to some of the most beautiful valleys he'd ever seen. Valleys where rivers would cascade thousands of gallons of water over their lips into lakes and rivers that rested in their delicate ecosystems. Birds would sing their harmonic melodies, accompanying the whispers of the wind that flowed through the trees. Endless stalks of fresh, ripe, green grass would continue on for eternity. The sights and sounds…they were beautiful. They were aesthetically pleasing. They were indescribable.

The macroscopic flames would band together, guzzling through small teepees of miniature sticks. Within several seconds, the teepees would be engulfed in chaotic yet beautiful strokes of heat energy. As the flames continued to grow stronger, they set their sights on the big, bulky, fresh-cut logs that laid right above them.

What he valued most, however, was her love towards him. She would always be flirtatious with him; tugging at his shirt, treating his body like a jungle gym, hugging him tightly like she was some sort of leech… it wasn't rocket science. She wasn't just being friendly. She wanted him. She _needed_ him.

A painful heartache swelled up inside Nick. An upsurge of guilt slowly ate away at his shriveling heart, dissolving away at his joy, love, and happiness. He realized the horrible mistake that was tugging at Nick.

Already envisioning a future with him, Judy was shut out with no reason or rhyme. Nick did it out of selfishness, and never even considered tapping into her emotions to see how she felt about his decision. He knew quite well about the feeling of rejection…thanks to the horrible encounter with the Junior Ranger Scouts when he was only nine. Drowning himself in sorrow, Nick realized that he had shattered one of Judy's sole sources of happiness: Himself. Nick, almost inexplicably, isolated himself simply for his own good. ' _How could I be so stupid?!'_ he thought, laying any criticism that he had on mind against himself. A lone tear swelled up in his left eye and dribbled down his fur. The only thing in the world that he could desire was to prove himself wrong, to take a deep breath and hurdle himself to the other side.

Laying himself back down in bed, Nick contemplated his next course of action. How would he talk to her, when he would talk to her, where he would talk to her…These ideas catapulted through his head, entangling themselves in a complex interface of inception and abstract thought. Somehow, deciding how to communicate to his best friend, his worthy affection became some sort of complex algorithm, where the missing variables, integral to the conversation, seemed impossible to find. Clearly he was overthinking this.

 _Right?_

Nick's brain became overwhelmed with misleading thoughts and undefined concepts. It seemed to only exacerbate the bandaged wound that was inches away from his brain. He rested his paw on it again, still somewhat frightened at the bizarre texture of the fabric that essentially draped across his entire head. He felt scared at what his body and mind were trying to communicate to him, as if they were expecting him to shout out an obvious answer. But there was no obvious answer. Nick's mind had become null. Was it the anesthetics? Or the exotic and foreign medicines that likely were coursing through his veins? Possibly. Instead of drowning himself in this state of grief, Nick figured it would seem much more logical just to sleep his troubles away and revisit them in the morning…or whenever the Hell he would wake up.

Readjusting his body to a more comfortable resting position, Nick trailed off, with the laughter and images of his admirer drilled into his mind. This wouldn't be the first time it happened, and it likely won't be the last time either. But instead of trying to redirect his thoughts, this time Nick allowed them to ebb and flow. Within minutes, his mind continued to feed him a steady stream of surreal and peaceful imagery that would eventually send him drifting off to sleep for the night.

 _Whirrrr…crinkle…crinkle…crinkle…Whirrrr…crinkle…crinkle…crinkle…_

Up and down went Nick Wilde, readjusting his bed from the upright position down to the horizontal position. The cycle was testing the strength and wear of the motors, but Nick couldn't care less; his ultimate goal was to relax and find peace and harmony when he woke up that morning, and somehow playing with the hospital bed seemed to do the trick.

Strong, saturated beams of golden sunlight started materializing in the ICU at around seven in the morning. Some of them made their way into Nick's suite, which now lacked the opaqueness it had before. They filled the cubicle, transforming its sin and misery into a room displaying the beauty of the rising sun. The air began to grow quite warm and stuffy from the heat, causing Nick pause his amusement to toss the sheets off his bed. He felt a rush of ventilation seep through his hospital robes and throughout his fur; the sensation felt almost orgasmic.

Once his body rebounded back to a warm temperature, Nick resumed another session of testing his bed's machinery. ' _Bed goes up, bed goes down!_ ' he joked with himself. His entertainment would come to an abrupt half soon after, however, when the smell of fried circuits violated his nostrils and the bed inexplicably quit on him. Although he didn't see any smoke, Nick felt somewhat alarmed at the halt of the bed's mechanisms. Once realizing that they weren't going to be revived any time soon, he had to find another way to entertain himself. Glancing left over at the corner of the room, Judy was still curled up, sleeping peacefully like a log on the uncomfortable hospital chairs. Within seconds, Nick formulated a plan, which began with retrieving the sheets that he displaced just a little earlier.

Slipping a few empty documents under his sheets, Nick quietly and discreetly compressed the leaves of paper into small balls. He used all the strength he could gather to ensure that they were as tight as he could get them. Although they were still relatively large projectiles, Nick figured that thanks to their light material, they would simply wake her up and would do no harm whatsoever.

With an arsenal of paper balls at his disposal, Nick shiftily and gently tossed one in her direction. The projectile, however, deviated from its intended path and struck the wall behind her, several feet off-target. Despite the unusual sound in close proximity to her gigantic ears, Judy did not stir at the sound of paper striking the wall and floor.

With three more rounds, Nick grew confident one of them would strike his rabbit. He sat up and faced Judy, much more determined and confident that he would hit her this time. Drawing back his arm, Nick felt a sharp pain bite his head once again. Deciding to not abort the throw, he gave it a hard pitch, which went astray thanks to the nearly blinding pain. Like before, the paper walloped against the wall and struck the floor in proximity to Judy, who was still fast asleep.

Nick laid him back down, seeking refuge from the pain that he experienced from simply sitting up. Almost giving up the challenge, Nick reminded himself about how compelled he was to talk to her. Sure, he could just call her name out and save himself some energy and time, but then again, he wouldn't be Nicholas Wilde if he never attempted a stunt like this one. Would a sly fox just shout their name to wake them up? Of course not. Grasping the third ball of paper underneath his sheets with an iron fist, he focused his attention on trying to hit the side of her head, which would easily startle her awake. ' _Third time is always the charm…_ ' an encouraged and determined Nick told himself. He slowly drew his arm back, redirecting not a single microsecond of his attention to anything else. He timed his shot with his breath; the training at the ZPD taught him that right after you exhale and right before you inhale is the most ideal time to fire.

Upon exhausting all the air out of his lungs, Nick hurled the cargo straight at Judy. For the initial second it was in the air, Nick already blankly assumed it was going to be another miss. However, the longer it travelled across the room, the more accurate his projectile would become. Just a brief second or two after the paper departed his paw, it successfully struck her right in the shoulder.

Nick nearly choked out a cheer, but somehow managed to restrict his vocabulary to a muted muffle. Like a kit in a candy store, he eagerly stared at her, waiting for the exact instance when she would be jolted awake. His excitement, however, quickly diminished as all the exploit produced was a gentle, involuntary, and automatic scratch of an itch where the paper landed. Nevertheless, he nervously held out for another fifteen seconds or so, envisioning her eventual awakening to be rather slow than spontaneous.

The suspenseful session abruptly ended with a disappointing huff and puff by Nick. Rabbits sleep a lot more heavily than he originally thought. Their energy levels and awareness of their surroundings lead him to assume that she would jump out of her seat like a kernel of popcorn. He still had one paper sphere left, however. Perhaps his first successful hit was just a prerequisite for actually waking her up.

Evoking the same strategy as earlier, he wound up his arm while continuing to lay down. This time, however, he held his breath. Coordinating his arms and his mind, Nick chucked the wad of paper straight at Judy. And just like before, it struck her right in the shoulder, almost in the exact same spot.

Looking as if an electric pulse shot through her body, she stunned herself awake. She hopped onto her legs and immediatley launched an investigation on what just hit her. It didn't take very long at all before she saw four balls of paper scattered about around her. She picked one up and investigated it, using the golden sunlight as a visual aid. Although the search was fruitless, she glanced over at Nick, who was staring straight back at her. Any concern and uncertainty cleared itself out when she put two and two together. Judy derived a beautiful and gleaming smile upon seeing him awake. Before she even commanded her body to do so, she galloped over to Nick, who looked very content to see her. Just before it looked like she was going to pounce on him, however, Judy abruptly stopped, just about a foot away from Nick's bedside. The smile on her face stonewashed into a cold, painful, and desperate cry for help. Just as quickly as a smile appeared on her face, she began to whimper, and slowly wept right in front of him.

"Hey…hey…what's the matter?" asked Nick.

Judy slowly dragged herself to his bed and rested her head on his abdomen. Tears continued to stream down her face.

"N-Nick… Are you ok-okay?!"

"Sssshhhh. I'm okay, I'm right here. I'm not going _anywhere_."

Another batch of saline tears and muffled sobs replaced her vocabulary. She buried her head into his gown, soaking it with her sadness. Nick sat up, disregarding any piercing sensations of needles that punctured his wound, and gently stroked the top of her head.

"I…I'm sorry. Your robes are soaked…" she mumbled.

"My goodness, you silly, emotional bunny. Be careful, now," he said while gently lifting her soft and plushy face out of his body, "We wouldn't want you and your fuzzy-wuzzy little tail to cry your eyes, now would we?"

Judy let out a bittersweet giggle and stroked away the tears that backed up her eyes. "Nick…you…you had me so worried. I was scared to death…I thought that maybe I'd nev-ne-nev…"

Nick rested a finger on her lips, easing her mind. The illusion brought Judy a sense of comfort and relief with it.

"Judy…I never…I never meant to keep you so worried," he said with a fretful and compassionate color to his words, "And I'm sorry. I got myself into this mess; not only did I hurt myself, but I hurt you. The only animal that I know of that does so much for me."

"W-what do you mean? You never hurt me; you never intended to end up in here."

"Well, what I mean is that since we've grown as friends, I've never felt so special and blessed to have someone like you be by my side. It's truly the first time that I've felt this way; not even Finnick, who I've known for about five years, compares to the way you treat and care for me. Sometimes, especially quite recently…I've often asked myself what I did to deserve you. Because whenever I look back at the things I did…tax evasions…hustling…teaming up with probably a wanted criminal…I keep thinking of why some washed-up old dork like me ended up with such the beautiful, kind, and caring bunny you are?

"Once I grasped ahold of you… I never wanted to let go. The connections that formed between us were _priceless_. Minding my mother, you were the only other animal on this planet that _truly_ understood me, and that's why I never wanted to lose you. I didn't want to risk anything that would make us go our separate ways or break our bondage as a friendship. It's a gamble that I was never willing to take. What happened a couple of days ago…I understand it's not what you wanted. It's not what I wanted either, but something told me that taking it a step further would be a bad idea.

"Reflecting on that, I feel like I was so foolish and selfish. I was being an idiot and thinking of myself; and thanks to that, I already put our relationship up against the line just by rejecting your quest. I regret everything I said that night…because if I lost you…I don't know what I'd do with myself."

"Nick…I never knew…I never knew you felt that way about me. Do you really look up to me like that?"

"Every day of my life, Carrots. You mean the whole world to me. I wouldn't trade you for all the blueberries in the world."

The two shared a prolonged moment of silence. Judy, however, had something envisioned in her mind that she just could not get rid of.

"Nick…?"

Toying with his broken controller for the bed, it took him a couple of seconds to realize Judy was speaking to him. "Hmmm?"

"Do you know how much you mean to me?"

"Try me," he challenged.

Too focused on his futile remote, Nick never expected to feel Judy's legs spring onto his bed. Not even a second later, her paws clamped the sides of his neck. Before he could have a chance to say or do anything, she planted a firm and prickled kiss on his left cheek. Judy then jumped off the bed and looked right at him as if nothing ever happened.

Although appreciated by the gesture, Nick's body was paralyzed in sweet surprise. He couldn't speak, twitch, or even blink. Once he was able to lift his paw, he rested it on his cheek, sensing the warmth and love that she left on it. He looked at her bright face, partially obscured by a bandage and his paw.

"I win!" grinned Judy with a sly and childlike face.

"You know, Carrots, I'm actually quite glad that my left ear is temporarily deaf," he mocked while reimbursing her with an equally irritable stare. "Because I couldn't hear those gross puckering noises that probably occurred."

Judy chuckled, wiping a leftover tear from her eye. "Well, congratulations. Now you have rabbit cooties!"

Nick rolled his eyes playfully. "Oh brother!"

The two exchanged some giggles.

"Hey…So on a more serious note, what exactly happened to your face? How the heck did you get such a woun-"

The sliding glass door that separates the chaos of the ICU and the nirvana of the room abruptly slid open, causing Nick's nerves to slightly jump. The sound also caused another needle to drill into his head. On the other side of the doorframe? None other than the chief of police himself. Although he was supposed to be on-duty that morning, Bogo decided to pay a visit, wearing a warm plaid collared shirt and a pair of wrinkly and old khakis.

"Chief Bogo!" shouted Judy.

"Hopps. Wilde. Good to see you two. Mind if I come in?"

Judy and Nick glanced at each other, seeing no signs of disagreement or interference.

"Yes, sir. Please come on in," said Nick.

"Thank you."

Holding a relatively thick folder in his hands, Bogo stepped in and gently slid the door closed behind him. He slowly and cautiously approached Nick's right side and sat down in the rolling chair beside his bed.

"Wilde. _Nick_. How are you doing?"

"Well, the ol' noggin hurts quite a bit, but overall I'm alright. Thanks for asking."

"That's good. I'm glad to see that you're recovering well. I just wanted to stop by and let you know that everyone at the ZPD…We're all thinking of you."

"Thank you, sir. You have my permission to tell everyone back at the station that I'm doing a-okay. Anyway, what brings you here?"

Bogo exhaled a deep and vibrant breath. "Wilde, I came here for two things."

"Well, by the looks of the folder," jokingly interjected Judy, "you have what looks like twenty-five things to tell him. What, you think that he needs to catch up on work while he recovers?"

"Now is not the time, Hopps. As a matter of fact, would you mind stepping outside for a minute please? Your partner and I need to talk privately."

Although Bogo's voice was calm, Judy didn't want to take any risks with him possibly lashing her.

"Yes, sir. I'll be waiting outside," she said while making her way towards the door. After a few seconds passed, Nick and Bogo were submerged within the sounds of silence.

"Nick, I…I came here because…well…I wanted to apologize."

The fox's ears flicked upwards in surprise and curiosity. "Apologize? For what, stealing the last cup of coffee a while ago?"

"Not that _kind_ of sorry. You see, Nick… I'm apologizing because I…I am the reason why you are here. I-in the hospital."

"What? I…I don't understand…," mumbled Nick while again touching his bandages, "How is this your fault?"

As if his room was cursed with sadness and adversity, another victim started to shed tears. Bogo grabbed a nearby box of tissues, trying to hold himself together.

"…sir?"

Turning around, Bogo dabbed his eyes and stood up. He did not utter a single word, nor a single syllable.

"Bogo? It's…it's okay. I won't be mad at you. I promise!"

Ignoring Nick's plead, he walked towards the door, holding back an ocean of tears that built up inside his eyes. He started to open the glass door, but slowly stopped with it halfway open.

"Nick…I…you…you were the victim of an attack carried out by me."

Bogo walked out the door and closed it, not saying a single word whatsoever. Nick contemplated about getting up and questioning him further, but remembered that he would have to pay the price of probably a horrible migraine. Deciding that it was not work the risk, Nick was left hanging in the air, with an extensive list of questions buried in the back of his mind. Glancing at the chair he was just sitting on, the fox realized that Bogo left behind the folder that he was carrying earlier. There was something scribbled on the exposed face of the folder, but Nick couldn't make it out.

"Can I come back in?" announced Judy as she peeked her head inside the room.

"Uh…yeah, come on in."

Happy to see him again, Judy waltzed in and walked towards the chair with the mysterious folder that was sitting on it.

"Hey Fluff-Butt, would you mind handing me that folder that's on the chair you're about to sit on?"

Initially confused, Judy spotted the file that Nick was pointing at.

"Oh, absolutely," she said while grabbing it and handing it to Nick. "Here you go!"

"Thanks," replied Nick as his eyes deciphered the code written across the file.

"So…what did chief Bogo say to you? If, of course, you don't mind asking."

Nick's mediocre multitasking skills were once again put to the test.

"I…I don't know…" he said while reading the text, "but I suspect…that it might have something to do…with this."

He passed the file over, pointing at the writing on the face of it. Extremely curious, Judy's eyes were glued to whatever it had to say, hoping it would clear up any confusion. However, the name of the file only confused her even more.

 _To: Nick_

 _Please forgive me; details are enclosed._


	10. Sage

"Alright, take a deep breath…there you go. Let it out slowly. Your arm is going to feel a little tight now, m'kay?"

"Mhm."

Nick slowly felt a band squeeze his right arm, clutching it tight enough to where he could feel his own pulse echo throughout the limb. These thumps coursed their way around his arm, delivering ounces upon ounces of freshly synthesized blood, most of which was likely prepared by his body within the past several hours. Almost like they were mimicking sound waves, the pulses rattled their way through his arteries and returned through his veins milliseconds later.

Thanks to his body flushing out the substitute while trying to replenish itself with plenty of fresh blood, Nick was quite deprived him of energy that morning. It made him feel like he was progressively getting worse as the day dragged on. He couldn't compare the sensation to anything he'd experienced before. His stiff hands felt like nothing but two balloons, permeated with warm, moist, and sticky air that would not escape. His forehead felt like a blast furnace that was also trying mimic a sponge; despite his body draining its reserves of sweat, an ongoing fever would continue to encase him. An additional side effect of the blood substitute was how it seemed to resemble a powerful and corrosive acid that was slowly feasting away at his blood vessels and his heart. Although he was told that these were just the common side effects, Nick still felt like he was slowly dissolving into a futile heap of flesh and bones.

Once the pressure on his arm was finally released, Nick remembered that he felt – and probably looked like – some sort of rag doll. Voodoo doll, as a matter of fact. Some evil witch, probably hiding in obscurity thousands of miles away, chose him as the victim of some cruel and unusual punishment involving supernatural and magical alchemy: threading red-hot needles through his carcass while simultaneously dribbling sulfuric acid on his head and limbs. Frankly, Nick would not be surprised if this necromancer was broiling the doll in thick, musky, hissing, black tar. Yes…That would explain everything. The irrational thought was followed by a wave of self-criticism. But what else was Nick supposed to think about? Getting caught up on paperwork, just as Judy joked? He glanced over at the folder sitting on the nightstand…the folder he still had yet to open.

Lying on the spacious and slightly uncomfortable mattress, he contemplated the possibility that he was decomposing in his death bed.

"…Andy? Err-Andrea. Sorry. So, wot's…Uh the deal? Because I'd be lying if I told you right now I wasn't making my way down to Hell and back."

Marking down a few more readings alongside her notes on a clipboard, Andrea was too distracted to even acknowledge him.

"Um, hello?"

"What? Oh, sorry. I wasn't paying attention. What's up?"

"Just curious, what's my status quo? Is there any idea on when I'm die? Or will I walk out of here a free mammal?"

Andrea chuckled. "Well, I know that you will walk out of here as a free mammal, it's just hard to say when. I've talked with some of the doctors, and we're going to run another x-ray on your head to confirm that you have depressed skull fracture. When we ran it the first time, it was a little difficult to tell. If you do have the fracture, then we may have to put you in the hands of the surgeon. Because with these types of fractures, they can cause a buildup of pressure in the brain. No good."

"Shit…He really hit me that hard? With just a water bottle?"

"Yeah, I thought it was just as absurd when we got the call. He definitely seems like a tough guy if he was able to do that."

"Did anyone ever find out why he did it? I've always known the Chief as a guy with more bark than bite. Doing something like this…It's surprising."

Andrea walked over to the bedside and rested the mysterious folder on Nick's abdomen. "From what the concierge told me, he scrapped this together to explain why. But that's all I know."

"Yeah, I plan to look at it with my friend Judy when she gets back."

"Judy's the…Rabbit, right?"

"Yes ma'am. She's quite a special one, indeed."

Andrea let out a charismatic chuckle. "Well, special is right. I'm no expert, but she definitely cares about you. She was practically _on her knees_ last night, begging to spend the night in here, despite campus policy not allowing it. It took an awful lot convincing for me to keep her here."

"Jeez…"

"Jeez is right," remarked Andrea while filling a syringe with a colorless, runny liquid. Nick grew uneasy upon the sight of it.

"W…What is that?" he stuttered.

"This? This is called hydralazine, a drug which will control your blood pressure. It looked a bit high when I measured it, so I'm just going to inject this to drain the pressure out of your system. Chances are you'll feel a bit better. Take a deep breath…exhale."

Without much more of a warning, a needle penetrated Nick's left arm, causing it to tighten up. The soreness that had already accumulated in his muscles caused the injection to be much more painful than he anticipated. Nick did his best, however, to mask the pain behind his seasoned poker face.

Andrea dabbed the injection site with some alcohol and set aside the medical tools.

"Well, this is just me, but based on what I've seen with you and her, she's definitely a keeper." Before giving a farewell nod, she stretched the top of his head.

"You think so?"

" _I know so_."

Her observations warmed up Nick's heart.

"I'll see you around, Nick. Probably late tonight when I report for my night shift. The medicine should kick in within the hour. If not, then the doc will give you some painkillers. Hang in there, and I guess I'll see you later!

"Bye, now!"

And with that exchange, Andrea waltzed out of Nick's room, leaving the space all for himself. He glanced at the folder in front of him. Just looking at it recalled several memories of his mischievous childhood life, specifically one instance on a Christmas morning about twenty years ago.

Foxes are sneaky, sly creatures. They know how to camouflage, sneak, and stalk. That very morning, Nick used his evolutionary skills to glide his way to the ornamented tree, investigating the presents that his mother gave him that year. But thanks to a case of bad timing, his mother followed him downstairs and caught him red-pawed before he could get his hands on the gifts. And like his gut instincts that morning, Nick's gut was screaming at him to not take a sneak peek at the folder. Thankfully, a case of _good_ timing prevented him from being sneaky.

"Hey, I'm back!" yelled a sugar-lipped Judy as she barged into his room. The cargo she was carrying in her hands did not reflect the hour and a half that she spent to get it, however. In her left hand was a hot drink suspended on a carrier, whereas in her right hand was a paper bag, hiding what must have been some foodstuffs. Glancing at the printed ink on the bag, Nick saw the indistinguishable emblem of one of the city's most well-respected cafés:

Yakity-Yak.

Nick's curiosity was now redirected towards Judy, and he disregarded the any suspicion with her.

"Is…Is that-"

"You bet it is! Don't act all surprised. I decided to make this a special occasion! After all you did say that you wanted me to surprise you," she smirked while welcoming herself in.

"But Yakity-Yak…It's in TundraTown…On the opposite side of the city…"

"Yeah, I'm sorry it took so long! But hey, on the bright side, I've got some goodies for you!"

Nick was in disbelief. Not only was Yakity-Yak at least a fifteen-minute drive without traffic (an event as scarce as hen's teeth) one way, but the café had such a defined reputation that the flow of customers caused at least thirty-minute waits. Not to mention that their ridiculously overpriced items were sure to make a dent in a wallet.

"So let me get this straight…You went to quite possibly one of the best food joints in the entire city, navigated your way through Zootopia's traffic while doing so, waited in line for probably a half-hour, and got me-"

"Blueberry-infused ginger tea. And to complement it, a rosemary scone!"

"Shut up!" he said in absolute astonishment.

She delivered the merchandise right before him. To his astonishment, the tea was still quite hot. The coffee cup, latticed and weaved with some fancy papery fiber, somehow insulated the heat throughout her journey. He took a peek of the herbs in the liquid, and was greeted with a steamy aroma of spicy and strong ginger paired with the tartness and tanginess of blueberries. It was unlike anything he has ever sensed. Immediately thereafter, his mouth was flushed with saliva.

The rosemary scone, which also had an indistinguishable scent to its name, brought back memories of the times when his mother would take him on drives through the mountains outside of the city when he was young. Nick could vividly remember sticking his head out the window and breathing in the fresh, clean scent of pine trees that safeguarded the beauty of nature. Coupled with the buttery wheat that gave the delicacy structure and sound, it was one of the most astonishingly beautiful dishes he has ever had the privilege to handle.

"Y-you did this…For _me_ , Carrots?"

"Well, you know," she bashfully mumbled while shuffling her hands about, "I was just in the area…and thought that maybe it was worth a shot!"

"I can't believe it…And you didn't get yourself anything?!"

"Psssh, I treated myself to some kind of carrot-cake flavored coffee, but this trip was primarily about…You!" she exclaimed, poking at his chest, suspiciously close to his heart.

"Carrots…I mean…Thank you. You didn't have to go the extra mile for me, but this is so generous of you! Can…Can I pay you back?"

"Nope! My treat."

"C'mon, at least for gas."

"Nope!"

"Carrots…"

"Nope!"

Despite her sharp and playful rejections, Nick was driven to do something in return, whether she liked it or not. Glancing down at the artisan scone, he formulated an offer that he knew she couldn't refuse. Trying to cushion any crumbs that would scatter about his body, Nick gently split the treat in half, which released even more powerful and saturated aromas.

"Carrots…You haven't eaten anything today, have you?"

Judy glanced at his offering, which was quite tempting. Despite her stomach problems from yesterday, the scone possessed an uncanny quality to it that it seemed too good to be true. Her stomach was begging to digest something; the coffee alone just wasn't going to accomplish anything.

"Nope…"

Nick continued to insist, looking directly into her eyes.

"C'mon, Fluff-Butt! You know you want it…"

"Ugh, Nick, stop it!"

"Judy! If you love me so much that you would make an hour and a half roundtrip just for me, then I want you to treat yourself."

Judy gazed into his eyes, and after taking one last look at the scone, finally collapsed.

"Ah, fine."

She gently and subtly took the food and tried to shove it down her throat as politely as she could; despite her unforeseen hunger, the last thing she wanted to do was to interpret a pig right in front of him.

The two ate in silence, sharing the ideal breakfast of some of the finest cuisine in the city. Of course, the one thing that demoted this meal from being top-notch was the location; a hospital was no place for the pair to guzzle down delicious tea and nibble on a scone.

Despite how wonderful the experience was, Nick couldn't shake the guilty feeling that he felt like he was holding her hostage, no matter how much she wanted to see him. A hospital is where mammals go when they are ill, not where they go to meet up with each other, share food, and spend the night.

"Hey, Judy?"

"Yeah?"

"Look, truly…You don't have to stay here. I'm glad you care so much about me. Like, it truly means a lot," he began while resting his paw on hers, "but you…you need to go home. I shouldn't have you staying in this hospital, despite how obligated you feel. You have places to go, mammals to see…And you sure as Hell can't do that if you stay here until I leave."

Judy's ears dropped behind her back. She wasn't necessarily _offended_ or _hurt_ by what he said, but somehow it left disappointment within her. She took a deep breath, retracting her paw from underneath Nick's and resting it in her lap.

"Can I stay just a little bit longer? _Please?_ There's…There's nothing to do back at my place! There aren't a lot of other friends to visit, my family's not in town, and I don't have work until noon today. Just…just one more hour? _Pretty please?"_

Nick took sip from his tea, which he noted to be some sort of nectar from the Gods.

"With whipped cream and a cherry on top?" she continued to beg.

"Alright, you win Carrots. One more hour."

Judy sprang up in excitement, with another candy-eyed smile painted on her face.

"So I know what we can do for the next hour…" hinted Nick as he waved the folder in front of Judy.

"Are you sure you want my eyes to see this as well? It sure as heck looks like it was assembled for you only…"

"Ah, to Hell with Bogo. If I'm reading it, then you're reading it with me!" he exclaimed while leaving open the file.

"Well…here goes nothing!" replied a cautiously optimistic yet curious Judy. She walked over to the other side of the bed and redirected the light that Nick pushed aside earlier that morning.

The first items they encountered were some vintage black and white photographs of an unfamiliar buffalo, all held together by an old and rusty paperclip. Most of the photos attached were portraits that exhibited her beauty, of which was awe inspiring for the two. Nick and Judy split the workload while inspecting the photos, looking for anything that Bogo could have wanted them to know. After all, the photos had to be here for a reason.

A general trend that seemed to be tagged with each snapshot was the written date in the lower left-hand corner:

Wednesday, the fourth of January, nineteen sixty-seven.

One photograph, however, at the bottom of the pile, wasn't like any of the others. When Nick revealed it, this buffalo was paired with must have been her…Brother? Friend? _Boy_ friend? Based on the way they were embracing each other in their arms, how close they were to each other, and how _happy_ they were, it suggested that there was some sort of relationship between her and some other buffalo who looked oddly familiar.

The light that was focused onto the photograph exposed what appeared to be some sort of ink message written on the back. Judy was barely able to see the opaqueness.

"Nick…Turn the photo around."

On the back was a handwritten note in black ink.

 _Dearest Marie,_

 _I still find it so hard to believe that we have been together for a little over three years! I can still recall the very day I first laid eyes on you like it was just a week ago. You are the love of my life, and that will never change. Your future is going to be just as bright and optimistic as your personality and beauty. I can't wait to see you bloom. Happy eighteenth!_

 _-Justin_

"Who is Justin?" asked Nick.

"Your guess is as good as mine…perhaps one of Bogo's friends? Maybe brothers? For some reason, he looks quite familiar to our chief."

Setting aside the mysterious pictures, a much more chilling and gut-wrenching certificate laid before them. The stained, yellowed, and dusty paper revealed what looked like the details of an animal's death. Two sets of eyes casted upon the document, searching for information.

 _City of Zootopia_ | _Department of Health Services_

 _Certificate of Death_

 _This document certifies that:_ _Marie Jessica Gilmore_ _died on:_ _01/04/1967_ _at:_ _Intersection of Cellar & Cornwall_ _. Age of death:_ _18 yrs., 0 mo., 0 days_ _at approximately:_ _11:26 P.M._ _Cause of Death:_ _Traumatic Brain Injury; Vehicle Accident (Loss of Control due to Weather)_

 _Signed:_ _Dr. Nathan Waters, PhD, Jan. 01, '67_

"Too young…" mumbled Nick. "Look: the date with these two is the same date as well."

"That's…Horrible…"

"It really is. D-do these photographs…oh goodness…"

Another collage of photographs laid sandwiched between the death certificate and several miscellaneous documents. Unlike the warm and happy photographs that they reviewed earlier, these painted a sharp and dark contrast. These photographs, some of which were captured by a camera with a sloppy palette of unsaturated colors, told a much more tragic story that they could have anticipated on that cold, January day. Despite a hazy shade of winter which obscured the night sky, more than enough light was captured in the pictures to depict such a tragic event.

The first photograph, which was a black and white polaroid, encapsulated the twisted remains of a sedan, which was reduced to coiled and kinked scraps of metal, rearranged into what was barely recognizable as a car. Every window, even the mirrors, was missing, likely transcribed into the thousands upon thousands of shards of glass which splintered cushion seats or was thrown askew into the icy, frozen street. The photo showed the crippled remains of three of the four tires on the car, all of which were either deflated or ripped to shreds. The tires also signaled signs of a mutated axel, one of which looked impossible to repair. The entire car was totaled beyond any physical repair.

The next few photos were much more detailed in showing the true nature of the crash, capturing different perspectives, angles, and faces of the scene. These images, captured by the camera with some dysfunctional color palette, all showed an ominous yet obscure secret; what first looked like oil streaks that could have originated from the engine now had much more vivid and saturated colors embedded within them. A much more brownish-red taint to it, to be specific.

Working as police officers, both Judy and Nick were no strangers to the sight of blood. Crime scenes, domestic assaults, and accident sites like these exposed them to just a part of a day in the life. Nevertheless, the gore would always still be uncomfortable for Judy to look at. Her body and mind, shaped by millions of years of evolution, engraved the idea that blood was never a good sign, whether the source was from herself or any nearby animal. Nick, on the other hand, who evolved to be out hungry for blood, didn't render the photos as very unnerving whatsoever, despite the harsh nature of them.

The blood was warped into various splashes, drops, and streaks all throughout the album. Although it was all concentrated in just one part of the scene, indicating that there was only one victim in the accident, there was enough blood going around to suggest a very violent and gruesome accident. In the driver's seat, droplets of red were scattered about the inside of the car. Seats, doors, and even the ceilings were in the line of fire. The steering wheel, bent almost beyond recognition, seemed to soak up the most of the fluid in the vehicle. The blood was dribbling down the sides of it, and was destined to either navigate its way out of the car into the street, or puddle on the floor of it. The vehicle door, which would have been impossible to open because of the damage it received, was smeared and coated. The victim, which Judy and Nick assumed was Marie, appeared to have dragged herself out of the broken window. If this was the case, then she must have slit open more skin, thus causing more bleeding as she climbed out. Their assumptions were supported by streaks of the fluid that were driveled down the side of the car door. The heaviest concentration of blood was right beside the car door, accumulated in a widespread sea of dark red. The thin blanket of snow that was on the road that evening seemed to amplify the burgundy hues. Small streams would branch out of the source, journeying towards the shoulder of the road and right into the cornfields.

Excluding one frame, in no photograph were there any dead nor alive animals. But in that final still frame, which kissed the paperclip holding the album together, there was a very faint and obscure buffalo lurking in the background. The snowy conditions made it very difficult to point out any distinct features.

"H-hey Jude…" Nick choked out amidst an ongoing battle with a headache.

"What? What is it?"

"Who…Who is that?" he asked while scraping every ounce of energy in his body to point at the shadowy character. The figure appeared to be sitting on the side of the curb, staring off into infinity. No detailed aspects that he possessed could be identified because of the obscurity of the photo. Judy, while investigating the build of the character, noticed similarities to Justin, the other buffalo in this case file.

"Nick…Could you pass me the photograph of…What's his face…Justin?"

Although Nick was showing evident signs of drifting off, he was able to keep his focus and attention on the investigation. Digging through the pile that he set aside, he uncovered the photo of Marie with Justin and promptly handed it to Judy.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Me? Yeah, I'm just really tired. The medicine must be screwing with my sense to think again."

"Strange…I could have sworn the tea I gave you had some sort of caffeine in it…"

"Well, perhaps my dumb little bunny continues to live up to her name!" he joked while nudging her.

Thanks to her focus being directed more on the photograph than Nick's ludicrous remarks, the phrase went through one ear and straight out the other.

"What, you can't take a joke?"

She continued to disregard his comments.

"Hellooooo? Anyone home?"

"Oh, shush, Nick! I'm trying to see who this is…"

"Well, do you think it's this Justin dude?"

"Hard to say…Their two statues look to be pretty similar. Horns, limbs, parts of the face…They all seemed connected in some way. But I just don't know."

"Well, let's think about this for a minute." Nick gently grabbed Judy's paw again.

"When you learned that I ended up in this Hellhole, what was your reaction? How quickly did you get here?"

"Pssh, you kidding? From the time I got the call, I was probably out of my apartment in just a couple minutes. I was so frantic and desperate to make sure you were okay."

"Perhaps do you think that if Justin learned about the accident just after it happened, he would rush over to see what happened? I'd imagine he would try to be there as soon as possible."

Judy's ears flicked up after hearing Nick's argument. Connecting the physical appearances with the timing of his arrival, it would make perfect sense if that was Justin.

"Jeez, Slick Nick! You're on a roll! Alright…What else do we have here?"

Reaching for the stack that continued to lay on Nick's stomach, Judy unintentionally knocked the documents over, and sliding of the bed, everything that was once on his abdomen now laid askew the hospital floor. The two mammals made eye contact after the folder succumbed to gravity.

"What are looking at me for, Carrots? I'm basically crippled, plus you knocked it off. Come on, now, go get it!"

Judy rolled her eyes and waltzed around the bedside to retrieve the scattered documents, which were dispersed across a relatively wide cross-section of the floor. Some made their way halfway across the room, whereas others were mischievous enough to glide right underneath's bed. Retrieving them became a rather hideous chore; simultaneously scanning the room and retrieving the papers from a floor that was probably coated with a layer of hepatitis viruses was rather unpleasant for Judy. After retrieving everything that she could see, the stacked papers were carefully placed where they originally belonged. Out of the corner of his eye, however, Nick saw the corner of one paper sticking out from underneath the nightstand on his left.

"Hey Carrots, you missed one," he said while pointing at it with a shaky and unsteady finger.

Judy spotted the document immediately and hastily went to retrieve it. When she shook off the dust and crumbs that infested it, her eyes were drawn to the handwritten letter. Her curiosity took over, and she slowly began to scan it, interested to see the details closed within. Analyzing just a few lines of the writing conjured up similarities to Bogo's script, and she continued to grow even more curious as to what he was trying to say. But with each word that she processed, shock and delusion overthrew her interest.

"Well? What does it say?"

Judy didn't respond. She simply continued to decipher his sloppy handwriting, growing more and more disavowed at the message he delivered. Her face and knuckles grew pale with each passing second.

"Judy?"

The rabbit was completely anesthetized; too stiff to move a muscle, and too disoriented to think straight. The letter inadvertently slipped out of her hands and glided towards the ground, landing in almost the exact same spot that Nick discovered it in just a minute ago.

Judy continued to be suspended in paralysis, unable to move a single muscle in shock and disorientation.

' _Is it really worth the risk?'_

 _'You know damn well it is. How else are you going to survive the work day?'_

 _'What about coffee? Or maybe some relaxing music? We can't be doing this again…It's not right!'_

 _'Oh, for crying out loud, stop with these fucking excuses! If you think that coffee can numb the pain, then you're absolutely crazy!'_

 _'I don't know…It just seems like this…This is a bad idea.'_

 _'A bad idea? If that's the case, then assaulting Nick was actually a good idea! Are you out of your goddamn mind? Huh? Listen to me. If you think that what you did was wrong…If you have any regret whatsoever…Then this will make all of that disappear. I mean Hell, I'd say there is a one in a million chance that he'll drop the assault charges, if we're lucky. Our career is in jeopardy right now. C'mon! Just a few sips will do the trick! You'll be sober enough to make your three o'clock appointment! It's worked in the past; you just need to be_ _sneaky_ _about it.'_

 _'But what if we get caught? Are we really going to continue operating under the idea that being the chief of police is an excuse for drinking on the job? Of course not!'_

Bogo's ability to write suddenly stalled. With his mind being so lost and confused, trying to work on a robbery case became his ball and chain. All he could do was to think astray. The assault on Nick Wilde yesterday marked a watershed moment in the stability of his career as a police officer. Rumors that floated around the station began to leak in the city. Any tabloids or new stations were thirsty to get their hands on any juicy rumors or speculations, only to manipulate them into brainwashing the public that he essentially killed Nick.

' _They're all fucking sheep…,'_ thought Bogo.

His office space increasingly began to grow dim. The sunlight that normally lit up his room lost a majority of its intensity due to the sky that was littered with a gloomy blanket of grey clouds. The shadows that the sun cast on anything in his room slowly began to vanish, blending in with the colors of the room. Not too bright, but not too dark. He found a peaceful calm within his office space, despite the adversity which had overlapped the past few weeks.

Bogo abruptly opened the bottom-right drawer of his desk. Tucked in a casket that was molded into the drawer was a bottle of single-barrel whiskey, one hundred proof. Adjacent to it, a small aluminium can of soda-water. His dependency on whiskey-soda over the past week has held steady; one glass each morning with his coffee (on the rocks, of course), at least two at work (depending on how many visitors he receives), and a few more after getting off of his shift. It was like ethanol was the only thing that could quench his thirst. The sizzling, burning, bitter taste neutralized his mind and sent him into an emotional equilibrium. Paired with an exotic cigar or two whenever appropriate, and Bogo's problems would _not fade away_. It was an illusion of peace and harmony, one that kept his mind from overflowing.

An abrupt and raspy knock that barked from his door withdrew Bogo out of his mindset.

"Wh-Who is it?"

"It's Hopps. We need to talk."

The Chief glanced at his watch, thrown off guard at how early she was to her shift. Judy was to report for duty in two hours! What kind of business was urgent enough for her to meet him so early? His gut told him that somehow...It was related to her injured partner. Bogo seldom obeyed these instincts, always either taking them with a grain of salt or ignoring them altogether. This time, however, he felt compelled to dismiss her.

"Now's not a good time. Talk to me in a bit."

Bogo never heard an acknowledgment from Judy, which tugged at his curiosity. Glancing at the bottom of the doorframe, her two shadowy feet that manifested themselves were not moving whatsoever.

"Hopps!" he barked, "That was an order!"

"Sir, this is important. Just five minutes. Please."

It was noteworthy to Bogo that her voice was rather sharp and biting; a tone which was uncharacteristic of her hardworking nature. Not wanting to have to deal with a pissed-off rabbit, the Chief made his disinterest more pronounced. Using built-up strength that was in his right arm, he thrusted his fist down on the table, discharging an incredibly loud bang and a few isolated cracks of splintering wood.

"You have exactly three seconds to get out of the building, or I'll have you on parking duty foR AN ENTIRE YEAR! ONE FUCKING YEAR, HOPPS! YOU HEAR ME?!"

Despite the menacing threat, the two black smudges in the carpet refused to move.

"ONE!"

Not a single budge.

"TWO!"

Naught.

"THREE!"

Suddenly, the two feet launched upwards, with her entire body following their way up to the door handle. In one swift gesture, the locks were unlatched and the entryway glided open. Standing right before him, Judy Hopps, with a look of terminal shock in her tear-stained eyes. Gripped in her left hand, a mysterious, crumbled-up piece of paper. Lacking the meek and obedient personality that he always knew she possessed, Judy looked right into Bogo's eyes with loathe and abhorrence. It surprised and frightened Bogo; he had never seen her act like this before.

' _Never let them see that they get to you.'_

"What the hell did I just say?! Is…Is listening just not your strong suite? Take one more step into this office, and you will hand over your badge indefinitely. I've had enough of your insubordination, Hopps!"

"Sir! If you want to spend another day in this office as the chief of police, I suggest that you listen to me, and _do not_ try me."

Bogo grew concerned at the sight of the very familiar looking document Judy was holding.

"That better not be what I think it is," he growled.

Judy crumbled up the handwritten letter and threw it right onto his desk. "You know damn well what that is."

With an unsteady hoof, Bogo reached for the paper and unfolded it. Sure enough, the handwritten letter, which he drafted earlier that morning, somehow reached Judy's eyes. In disbelief, the Chief reread the entire thing, refusing to accept the idea that she was able to get a hold of the document.

 _Dear Nick,_

 _As the chief of police of this city, I must give you my sincerest apology. Although I understand your recent memory must be rather foggy, I feel that I must come clean and confess everything that I did which wound you up in here._

 _Yesterday afternoon, you reported a couple of minutes late to your afternoon shift. During that time, I was in a rather selfish and short-tempered mood, and with you being late to roll call, something inside me snapped. As you sat down, I began questioning, rather interrogating, you about why you were late. Believing you were going to give me a traffic-related excuse like you've done in the past, I pulled up the traffic report on the television screen, hoping that you'd fall into my trap. And when you did, I couldn't control my temper. I sent you off on a suspension after criticizing your integrity._

 _Upon walking out the door, you remembered the water bottle that you brought to work, and walked back to get it. That's when…I assaulted you in a fit of rage. Inexplicably, I used the bottle as a weapon and threw it straight at your head, which caused you to be knocked unconscious with a dented skull._

 _There are no excuses for my actions. Despite that I have been going through severe personal issues and adversity these past few weeks or months, that should not give me permission to assault one of my fellow officers. I continue to deeply regret everything I did that afternoon, and chances are I'll never forgive myself._

 _Now, both you and I have worked together for quite some time now, and this has allowed us to get to know each other. I explicitly remember you coining the humorous phrase that I was always 'more bark than bite', and how I always worked to stop stereotyping foxes like you and rabbits like Judy. Despite these little bumps in the road, we have always worked as a team. Always have, always will._

 _This is why I ask for forgiveness. I understand how mad you must be at me, and I understand how you are likely contemplating legal action against me. Because of my rough history, there is no reasonable doubt that if this goes to court, then my reign as the chief of police will be over. But because of our functionality as a team and our workmanship, I ask you to_ _not_ _press charges. Not only will this keep myself in order of this disorganized station, but it will be better for all of us in the long run._

 _I plan to provide eighty percent of the medical costs associated with your recovery that insurance does not cover, and I will commit to anger management classes two times a week to prevent this from ever happening again. May I wish you a fast and speedy recovery, and everyone here at the ZPD wish to see you back very soon._

 _-Best Wishes,_

 _Bogo_

The Chief was absolutely speechless. This wasn't a setup, fraud, or some prank – Judy did in fact get ahold of the restricted information and learned about the gruesome truth of what happened that very day. The entropy dissociated with this mess would only continue to get more disarrayed. Judy now became a huge barrier he would need to surpass in order to stay in power.

"How…How did you get a hold of this?"

Judy wiped a tear from her eye. "You really want to know? Or do you want me to make up some sort of phony excuse, give it to you in a letter, and hope that I keep my badge? Clearly, that kind strategy works for you."

"Hopps, you're not making any sense…"

"The letter…You know and I know that you don't give a crap about Nick's recovery. All you want to do is keep your job, and by manipulating him in thinking that you do give a damn about his recovery…It's…It's…"

"Hopps, listen to me. You don't unde-"

"It's sickening! Repulsive! Vile! You think that by persuading him to keep you out of trouble, then you'll keep your job!"

"Stop it now, you're going berserk!" barked Bogo.

Judy began to softly weep. "You're a monster," she mumbled.

"I beg your pardon?"

"YOU'RE A FRICKING MONSTER!"

"C…Can you just please listen to me?"

"What is there to say? Do you want to improvise another counterfeit apology to me this time?" said Judy while stroking another tear from her face. "I need to go. I'm going to throw up if I have to spend another second in this building talking to you."

"I'll tell _everything_ , Judy. Please!" begged Bogo while lunging forward.

"Even if I did choose to stay…How could I be assured that I have your word?"

Without saying a word, Bogo slowly stood up and lifted his right hoof.

" _I, Jasiri Bogo, promise to be brave, loyal, helpful, and trustworthy._ It's the Junior Ranger Scouts Honor Code. I can never lie under that oath. _"_

"…Jasiri? That's…That's your real name?"

"Yes. Yes, it is."

Bogo's tactic of revealing his name lured Judy back into his explanation. She cautiously stepped into his office, weary and curious as to what he was going to say next. As she gently floated in, Jasiri stood up and looked out the window behind him, which gave an exquisite and dazzling view of downtown Zootopia. The heavy concentration of skyscrapers, plateaued on a hill in the center of the city, were wrapped in blankets of the clouds provided by the overcast weather that day. Guarding the city was the Amazon Tower, the spiraling skyscraper that cascaded towards the heavens. It was dressed in an impressive array of turquoise stained sheets of glass, all arranged in thousands of hexagons which wrapped around the double-helix structure. It was a stunning piece of architecture, where anyone could see anything from its observation deck. Despite its aesthetic beauty, Bogo could do anything but live in a reflection of its dream.

"Justin. My brother. You've heard of him, right?"

"Are…Are you referring to the buffalo in the photos that you gave us?"

"Yes, that would be him."

"So? What does that have to do with anything?"

Jasiri was able to faintly make out the pulsating red light from the tower's beacon. Despite the clouds that hung heavy in the air, he could indistinctly make out the optics that illuminated from the Amazon Tower. Bogo took a deep breath and grabbed his car keys out of his pocket.

"Well…We are going to go and pay him a little visit. Would you be okay with that?"

"Um, why? That's the last thing I want to do."

"Hopps…Judy…I'm asking you to trust me."

"Good grief. Fine!" she spat.

"Splendid. Let's get a move-on!"

A steady drizzle of rain blanketed Bogo's car as it rode its way along the fast lane of Highway Z25, straight towards the complexity of the downtown area. Cars of all shapes and sizes, from machines that accommodate the tallest giraffes to apparatus that are suitable for the largest elephants in the city. The chaotic nature of the motorways was the working blood that fueled the city. Despite the diversity of the vehicles on the road, big or small, each and every mammal would find a way to navigate the roads. Bogo, who travelled this road to and from the station nearly every day, was no exception. Although his criticisms to the drivers of the city were quite prominent via the use of his sailor's mouth and cry of his horn, he could traverse the thoroughfares with ease.

Sitting in the passenger seat, Judy grew increasingly unnerved at his driving methods. Admittedly, she was never the best driver either; making a few siblings carsick back at home was adequate evidence that her choppy piloting skills were never the best. Nevertheless, Judy focused on the downtown ahead of them, not worrying about Bogo and more about their whereabouts.

"Chief Bogo? Sir?"

"Hopps, you can call me Jasiri. You're not on duty at the moment."

"Sorry. Jasiri…Right. Where exactly are we going, location-wise? I understand you want me to meet Justin…but where does he live? I'm still not too familiar with the downtown area."

"Well," mumbled Jasiri as he glanced over his shoulder while switching lanes, "We are going to visit him at the Amazon Tower."

"But…Why? I promised Nick I'd be back to discuss legal issues after our little _chat…_ I never asked to be dragged along to see your brother. Just so you know, by the way, he's _pissed_ about what happened. I hope you understand that this won't get you out of us pressing charges."

"Judy, I understand that I can't change your mind; I'm not one of those weird gypsy mammals that can do that sort of rubbish. All I want to do is to show you an explanation for the things that I did…An explanation that suggests why I've been so depressed and saddened these past few months. I have no doubt that you won't change your mind; I wouldn't either. But maybe if you understand what had to go through involving horrible events with my brother and I…Then perhaps you can understand _me_. Even forgive me."

"You're milking it…" growled Judy.

"Sorry. Could you do me a favor, please?" asked Jasiri, trying to shift the delicate subject to something not as controversial.

"What's that?"

"Do you see the wooden box that's right below your feet? The one crafted with olive wood?"

"Oh, do you mean the box that keeps sliding and banging across the floor of the car? Yeah, I can more than just see it."

"Alright. I need you to please carefully open it up and take out the _leaf_ that is inside the wrapping.

Although confused, Judy obeyed Bogo's request. Upon opening the beautifully crafted box, which was ornamented with a brilliant shade of orange form the olive wood, she encountered one rather large sage leaf, enveloped in a plastic seal. She did as Bogo told her carefully, sliding the herb out of the package with plenty of precaution and care. Once out of the package, Judy noticed that written within the leaf, likely sketched out with some sort of stick or pin, was a message:

 _Heroes…whether they be our significant others, our parents, our friends, or even our brothers, will always live within us and without us. Although, evidentially, heroes will be traded for ghosts, they will always look upon us regardless. I wish heroes, heroes like you, would continue to help me find true happiness in life. To allow me to overcome adversity and personal loss._

"Chief Bogo, err-Jasiri…What is this?"

"I'll explain when we get there. A lot of it has to do with folk lore from my family."

Bogo switched lanes again, converging towards an upcoming exit. As the ramp came closer and closer, Judy and Jasiri slowly were swallowed by the vast and majestic complexity of downtown. Skyscrapers of all shapes and sizes littered their field of view. The jungle of steel, sort-of-speak, captured the essence and beauty of the city that ceases to roar. Billboards, banners, and gigantic television screens covered much of the infrastructure, flashing zesty shades of neon throughout the streets. Families of trees would also garnish the streets, with ones such as palms, pines, and redwoods providing a wild and natural aspect to the city. It connected each and every animal with their history and origins, allowing them to become _one with the city_.

As Bogo's car began to decelerate, out the corner of Judy's right eye, straight down a busy street, emerged the Amazon Tower. It was indistinguishable from the rest of the city. Its color spectrum, luminance, and helix curvature probably gave it public opinion of being the most beautiful skyscraper in the city, if not the world. Judy would continue to be awed upon encountering its height and infrastructure every time she saw it in person. This time was no exception. Her curiosity began to boil.

"How old is this tower?" she asked.

"It was built in nineteen sixty-two. Fifty-four years ago."

"Jeez, it's a lot older than I thought! I've always assumed it was built maybe a decade ago or something like that."

"Well, now you know."

"How many floors does it have?"

"One hundred and twenty."

"Which floor does Justin live on?"

"Justin? Well…You could say he lives on the first floor."

Jasiri's remark puzzled Judy. Upon visiting the tower with Nick a while ago, nowhere did she see hallways on the first floor that could have led to a hidden condo. Then again, she vividly remembers her attention being fixed on the vast array of elevators, stairways, and animals in the building. Perhaps she just never noticed it on her way to the domestic dispute that was called in. She dismissed any confusion and accepted what Bogo said.

"Well...He probably doesn't get a lot of views from the first floor! We should convince him to move up to the _one hundred and twentieth floor!_ "

A blessing of an open parking meter right in front of the massive structure gave the two direct access to the Amazon Tower, which was now not even a block away. Jasiri cut the ignition on his vehicle, which coughed a few times before dying.

"Something like that…" he choked out.


	11. Rosemary

Echoing within the wells of silence, crackles of disembodied raindrops coexisted in harmony with the weeping of the rainclouds above. A sea of umbrellas – most of them black – became targets for the drops to splatter against. Driblets of water would cascade their way down the fabric, before taking yet another plunge towards the earth. Sporadic puddles of water would continue to evolve with the progression of the rainstorm. Plumping the leaves with crisp and clean water, the raindrops soaked any square inch of the terrain below. Ironically, the plump, turgid, and green grass sung harmonies of fertility, beauty, and prosperity; all of which were rather neglected. Any concrete exposed to the storm began evolving a dreary shade of dark grey from collecting raindrops, analogous to Jasiri's comfortably numb mindset.

 _The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me down to lie in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters._

Bogo's jet-black jacket did little in reducing his exposure to the elements of mother nature. Even with an umbrella to assist in his journey across the block, with Judy by his side, his leathery jacket, engraved with the ZPD's logo on the front, did little to protect him from the blasts of sweet, brusque air that floated throughout the city. He didn't mind the wind necessarily, but rather what it was carrying. Any one of these occasional gusts would whisk miniscule rain droplets right into his face or onto his fur, efficiently draining his reserves of heat. Some of the water integrated right on his balmy cheeks, condensating into small water drops. The kinetics that accompanied his strides permitted these globules to stream down his face.

 _He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake._

Differentiating tears from rain would be a fruitless and futile task to investigate within such an atmosphere. Jasiri couldn't help but differentiate the striking similarities between his urban environment and _Yerupaj_ _á_ ; the more he thought about it, the more uneven the street appeared as he cast his vision downwards. He recalls the descent of the casket, which was consolidated with a putrid and unnerving stretch of the bands that suspended it. Trailing its descent were the arcs and paths of crimson-red roses. The flowers amassed inside the grave alongside the casket, enveloping it in a weary shade of red. If Jasiri looked closely, he could observe many pedals that were branched form the rose's bulbs were pierced with rigid and sharp stalks of the beauty's counterpart.

 _Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me._

Waltzing past the Flora and Fauna shop on his right, where he had to assist with an investigation regarding vandalism recently, Jasiri payed careful observation to the beautiful arrangements of the roses on the right. Aligned in a beautiful and paralleled matrix, the flowers sat peacefully in the rain along the shelf. Jasiri's eyes were drawn to their beauty, like two opposite magnets destined to marry with each other. His walking pace slowly decelerated, until he paused himself right in front of the arrangement.

 _Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over._

The sea of red whispered and spoke to him: a disarrayed collage of turgid flowers, many of which have been torn of some pedals, spoke of nothing but pain and adversity. These encryptions tapped into his mind and soul, casting him into the same trance all over again. He would have to relive that same day all over again. Yes, the flowers knew; they know of agony, bedlam, and heartbreak. They knew of tragedy, sorrow, and anguish. They described weeping, silent or pronounced, along with the tear-stained eyes which refuse to reconstruct. They understood his pain.

 _Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever._

"Uh…Chief?"

Jasiri continued to stare at the flowers, disregarding Judy's comment. Only when she gently tugged at his jacket did she snap him back into reality. He turned and looked at her.

"What are you doing? The tower's still a short walk away," she commented.

"Err…Right. Sorry. It's just that these roses just caught my eye. They…They bring back some bittersweet memories. Could you do me a favor and wait here?"

"Uh-"

"Splendid!" exclaimed Bogo as he gave the umbrella to Judy, "I'll be right back out before you can say carrots!"

Judy rolled her eyes.

Bogo hustled his way into Flora and Fauna, sliding his wallet out of his back pocket while gliding into the store. Perplexed at his behavior, Judy stayed put, investigating his silhouette jetting its way around the shop. Despite the raindrops on the window masking and mutating her views of a clear picture unfolding inside, Judy managed to distinguish his black silhouette surrounded by several golden, blurry lights scattered about inside the shop. It squiggled through a couple of aisles, past several customers, and eventually made its way to the cashier, with a rather large assortment of flowers, or at least that's what Judy assumed they were. A brief transaction later, and Jasiri walked out of the shop with a beautiful arrangement in his hand.

The bouquet was one of the most astonishing ones Judy had ever encountered. A fresh-cut batch of roses highlighted the piece, but several small daisies smiled at her. Blushing lilies were also dotted throughout the arrangement. The steady rain added an augmentation to the colors, which torched the flowers with natural, raw hues. Not necessarily a torch of fire, but more so a torch of _beauty_.

"Sweet cheese and crackers! I never knew you were so good at doing floral arrangements, sir! That…That's absolutely incredible!"

Jasiri chucked. "Well, I actually bought these. If you're impressed with the flower arrangement, talk to Ethan inside; he was the cashier that made this. It was just a featured bouquet that was on display inside, so I figured why not buy it?"

"Why exactly did you get those? They better not be for me…"

"Oh, no. These…" trailed Jasiri while stroking a few pedals, "Are for Justin."

 _Awkward_.

"Jeez, you guys do have weird family traditions. Sage leaves, bouquets...Are all buffalo like this?"

"Eh, I have my doubts. These are things that I just do whenever I decide to pay him a visit. Like I said: family traditions."

"Huh…"

"I'll explain when we get there. Let's get a move on."

The two resumed their rainy journey to the Amazon Tower, whose foundation was around a half-block away. Seeing the structure up-close continued to take Judy's breath away every time she saw it. Its sheer height, infrastructure, and aesthetic beauty, even in dreary weather like that day, would continue to mesmerize her. Her favorite part about the structure, however, were the crystal-clear glass panels that coated the tower. The thousands of glass sheets that were lodged into the building were each dyed with assortments of colors to complement both the city and its surroundings. Some were purple, which reflected the city's wealth and development. Many others were blue, symbolizing the city's strength and stability throughout the times it was established. Finally, hundreds of turquoise-green panels were scattered about to establish the growth and harmony of Zootopia.

Or, at least, that's what Clawhauser told Judy. Occasionally, she had no choice but to take his trivia with a grain of salt. The poor cheetah was probably the most gullible animal at the department; which is perhaps the main reason why he was working as the ZPD's _concierge_. She heard one time that Bogo suggested Clawhauser a desk job after he let a DUI suspect drive off because the driver claimed he was sober. But then again, Nick isn't always reliable with his information either.

The two eventually reached the front entrance of the building. As they sought refuge from the rain, Bogo compressed the black umbrella he held, and carried it by his side like some sort of cane. Because he was a much bigger animal than Judy, Jasiri could walk through the revolving door that served as the tower's entrance with ease. Being a relatively small rabbit, however, Judy had no other choice but to bust a jog in order to make her way through without being crushed like a toothpick. Upon entering the lobby of the well-maintained building, a gust of warm, sticky air pelted the two, contrasting the biting chilliness outside. Judy's ears flapped like loose cloth in a windstorm. As a matter of fact, she had to fight the force of the wind to prevent her being a tumbleweed. Once the gusts calmed down, Judy nostalgically surveyed the lobby once again, still in complete awe at the amount of beauty and professionalism it withheld.

One could loosely define the lobby as being a massive glass canopy; a gigantic room which occupied about half of the space defined as the first three floors. It was as if somebody cut out half of the first, second, and third levels, allowing the jaw-dropping views of the nearby skyscrapers speak for itself. The boundaries to the space were limited to just the glass plates that layered the tower and the second and third floor balconies which overlooked a farfetched bronze statue of the city's first mayor, Doctor Simba. This mayor ruled the city with an iron fist over two hundred years ago, governing each of the established boroughs to ensure that predator and prey lived in harmony. A fountain surrounded the statue, establishing even more credibility of both the importance of the mayor and the complex size of the Amazon Tower. Each balcony that overlooked this statue was separated vertically by about twenty feet of curtsey space, which probably allowed the lobby to peak out at about sixty to eighty feet high. To top off the superb lobby? A chandelier that paid tribute to the fascination of biology: a double helix. Hundreds of strings aligned each lightbulb into the phenomenal structure, with an entire spectrum of colors to accompany it. The work of art was one of Judy's favorite parts of the city.

"Good day, sir and ma'am! My name is Josh. Welcome to the Amazon Tower! How may I help you?" asked a wombat in charge of greeting guests at the door.

"Thank you. Would you mind escorting my friend and I to the Yerupajá Terrace please?" asked Jasiri.

"Yerupajá…?"

"Yes, please. If we could."

"I'm sorry, but unfortunately we have the terrace closed due to the bad weather. You'll have to stop by when the fog and rain rolls out."

Bogo glared at the employee, and slowly revealed the bouquet that he had hidden behind his back.

"Ooh…My apologies. Please…Follow me."

Josh led the two through the lobby, directly past the statue of Simba and the concierge.

"How did you do that?" asked a curious Judy.

"Well, let's say that I'm an exception to visit this place."

Judy cast her vision towards the ground in front of them as they continued to journey their way through the lobby, which was relatively empty; a few business professionals and tourists were all to be seen.

"Jasiri…"

"Hmm?"

"Is…Is Justin _alive_?"

Bogo took a deep breath as they continued to walk, and let out a sharp and muffled cough.

"No."

Judy's ears flicked up in surprise.

"Oh…I-I'm sorry for your loss, sir."

"Thank you, Hopps, but there is no need to be sorry. The only reason why I'm taking you here is to explain myself."

"Just curious…How did Justin…Move on? If you're okay talking about that, of course."

Jasiri took another deep breath to recollect himself.

"Justin committed suicide around thirty years ago, back when I was only in elementary school. Despite how long ago that was, such an event was traumatic enough to still affect me to his day. His gravesite is right out here on this terrace. That…That was the one thing that I didn't want you to know just yet. Putting something like that in the file...It just felt _wrong_."

"My goodness, chief! I can't imagine how painful it must be to go through something like that…"

"You're right; you don't know. And I hope you never have to go through something like that. These things…They change you. One day, you might be living an utmost perfect life, full of bliss and harmony, and the next, you're battling depression, anxiety, and a whole cluster of mental issues. It's not fun."

"Well, even though I don't know how you feel, I know how to make you feel better. If you ever need someone to talk to…You come straight to me. Promise?"

Bogo glanced over at Hopps and gave her a warm smile.

"I promise."

Towards the back of the lobby, lodged between two gigantic acacia trees, rested a pair of glass doors, with the word _Yerupaj_ _á_ engraved in the granite above it _._ Despite the thick layer of fog outside (with complements from the storm), Judy could make out the start of a terrace as the three animals approached it. Despite feeling sorrow for Jasiri, Judy also felt intrigued to see what was behind the glass doors; she had never seen them before when visiting the tower. The wombat waved his key card in front of a nearby scanner, which activated the unlocking mechanism. He politely opened the door and permitted them to step back outside. Jasiri and Judy exchanged farewell glances as they encountered the stuffy, brisk air outside. The rain seemed to calm down quite a bit, but Jasiri opened up his umbrella nonetheless. The two began their journey to the terrace, with mounts of fog steamrolling past them as they step out in the open.

"How exactly do you say this place? Yoro-pay-gah? Euro-pah-ja?" asked Judy.

"Euro-pa-ja. Close."

"What does that even mean?"

"Well, in some foreign language, I don't know which one, it means a summit, or the highest point…An _overwatch_."

"So this place is essentially a cemetery then."

"Eh, sort of. Only ten animals are buried here."

"Just ten? What kind of cemetery is this?"

"It's one where some of the city's most important animals are buried."

"Wow…"

At the end of the corridor, the pair set foot to a beautiful terrace which branched out of the tower, suspended on pillars that kissed the ground about fifty feet below them. The patio bared similarities to a wild savanna: Golden stalks of tall grass whispered with the fog in distributed planters, while a stream ran from a small pond to a mesmerizing infinity pool that cascaded over the edge of the terrace. Acacia trees, scattered about the balcony, provided shelter to many flora and birds that called Yerupajá home. Three ponds, one of which was the source for the river to the infinity pool, were placed across as well, unifying the ecosystem with their aesthetic and natural beauty. Water lilies and cattails enveloped their crystal-clear waters, giving shelter to plenty of dragonflies and fish. Completing the fragile set was a set of glass handrails that wrapped around the deck, with a couple pairs of benches accompanying them to overlook the city.

That is, if the fog would ever clear up.

"Wow…This is incredible. It's so…Peaceful," mumbled Judy as she slowly wandered aimlessly to the right. Jasiri gave her time to explore some of the features about, observing her from a distance while she soaked in the beauty. The thick fog eventually wrapped around her, and she disappeared like a phantom into the night.

"Follow me, Judy," cried Jasiri as he stepped out into the open.

Judy eventually reemerged, shuffling her way back to the center of the terrace. Once the two finally met up, Bogo directed them to the opposite edge of the balcony. Gently tucked in a corner between the enormous tower and a concrete wall that eventually merged into the glass balcony was a small opening of fresh and sweet grass, with daisies and tulips surrounding the meadow. On the wall of the building, ten plaques were drilled into the concrete, each constructed from striking jet-black marble. Gold letters were embedded into each one, depicting what appeared to be very formal memorials for whoever's name was on that wall.

A splatter of rain drizzled onto the two. Judy hustled to seek refuge underneath Bogo's umbrella, which was echoing crackles throughout Yerupajá. As Judy began to study the memorial sight, investigating the impact that these ten mammals must have left in order to possess such a legacy. Once the spout of rain calmed down, Judy stepped back into the open and began investigating the tablets, starting with the rightmost ones. She minded caution and gave plenty of space between herself and the wall. Some of the names that she saw struck her as very familiar, while others were complete strangers.

 _Teddy Mercury_

 _Born: 5 September 1946_

 _Died: 24 November 1991_

 _Famed singer, songwriter, and lead vocalist of the Queen Bees._

 _Andy Worthog_

 _Born: 6 August 1928_

 _Died: 22 February 1987_

 _15 Minutes of Fame as a beloved artist and photographer._

Judy closed in on the middle tablet. About ten feet away from the wall, she suddenly halted, looking straight at the plaque. Jasiri stood from afar, and eventually walked beside her as she looked straight at the words encrypted on it. After joining her in front of the plaque for about a minute, Bogo finally collapsed to his knees, suppressing the flow of tears that were desperate to escape his body. The roses he was holding fell to his side, coating themselves in droplets of morning dew on the ground. Judy forced herself to reread the raw, powerful message that was encoded on the tablet.

 _Justin Roger Bogo_

 _Born: 6 March 1949_

 _Died: 25 December 1967_

 _Justin,_

 _The most painful goodbyes are the ones that are never said and never explained._

 _On this very day, Heaven gained an angel cast with golden wings. Yes, there are two paths you could've gone by, but in the long run, there was still time to change the road you were on. Despite how brief it was, your life was a beautiful journey that will never be forgotten. We'll see you again soon…_

 _Someday._

 _-With love,_

 _Mom, Dad, and Jasiri_

A boxing glove shoved heaved straight into Judy's abdomen, nearly sending her down to her knees as well. Heat started to cascade throughout her entire body as she became overwhelmed with an epiphany; surges of warm blood streamed through Judy's body, flushing her face with a pair of rosy cheeks underneath her layer of fur. A stone felt like it was directly lodged into her throat, interfering with her ability to maintain a steady breathing pace. Trying to mask her struggles as much as possible, Judy whisked out quiet and quick breaths, hoping that Jasiri would not notice her physical breakdown. Judy's sense of mobility shattered upon her name being called.

"Judy…?"

"Y-yes…sir?" she replied while managing her turbulent and irresolute gasps of air.

"Can you please pass me the sage?"

Swiveling her hand around to her back right pocket, Judy's paws felt the plastic wrap that enveloped the delicate green leaf. She took extra caution upon sliding it out. As she delivered the herb to Jasiri, Judy rested a paw on his shoulder, hoping that she could be a source of comfort and support.

Jasiri accepted the leaf and carefully unwrapped it. The message that was written on it before could still be clearly deciphered, despite the small text and sloppy handwriting.

 _…I wish heroes, heroes like you, would continue to help me find true happiness…_

"Th-thank you," he muffled while stroking his hooves across the brittle surface. Taking her paw off his shoulder, Judy gave Bogo some space for himself.

Jasiri gently folded the leaf into quarters and set it on the ground beside him. He then began to unearth a small part of the dirt before him, creating a small depression in the ground. Bogo handled the leaf once again, and gave it a light kiss before resting it inside the hole.

" _Imeandikwa,"_ he whispered.

Finally, Jasiri scrapped the dirt around the hole back to where it originally belonged, restoring the neatness and organization set around the memorial. Once there was little to no trace of disturbance of the soil, Bogo stood up and rested the flowers right in front of the covered cavity.

"Bogo, sir…I…I don't know what to say. I'm very sorry for your loss. I can't imagine having to go through something so painful," squeaked Judy, cautious as to not further upset him.

"Come with me."

Jasiri directed Judy across the canopy to a bench which overlooked the city. A pond laid right beside the wood-crafted furniture. The thick blanket of fog that continued to surround the two was finally beginning to show signs of weakness. Clouds began to dissipate, slowly revealing beams of sunlight and hints of the vast horizon in front of them. Golden stalks of grass surrounded the two, isolating their view to the beauty of the city revealing itself. TundraTown was visible on their left. The white-capped peaks that defined its outer boundaries were indistinguishable and integral to the beauty of that area. Sahara Square also stood out like a sore thumb; the Palm Oasis casino and the cascading dunes that bordered the sea was the signature beauty of the borough.

"Judy…I need you to understand something," fretted Jasiri once the two sat on the bench.

"I've been alive for long enough to see terrible things happen to this city. I've seen assaults, robberies, and even murders happen right in front of me. I've seen blood being shed, bones being broken, and consequences of the drug trade unfold right before my eyes. But nothing that I've had to go through, not one thing in my entire life, will compare to Christmas night of nineteen sixty-seven. To say that such a happy day back then was the worst day of my life would be a drastic understatement. That night transformed me from a happy, carefree, bright buffalo to the dirty, messy, and depressed sack of shit that everyone in the ZPD now looks up to. No matter what I have to go through, no pain or trauma I have or ever will see will ever compare to having to undergo the adversity surrounding my brother's suicide. Every time I have to hear his name, celebrate Christmas, or visit this place…I have to relive ever second of that horrible, gruesome day. I've often felt like my happiness just _shrivels_ whenever I learn, or rather dig-up, more information regarding his death.

"Justin wasn't just a brother to me. He was an integral part of my life. My personality, curiosity, and influence were all guided by his love and support for me. Not only did he teach me, but he protected me. If Justin ever got word that I was being toyed with by some of the children at my elementary school, for example, he would do everything in his power to take the twenty-minute drive from his high school to make sure I was okay. If I was home, sick with the flu, he would give me enough medicine, chicken soup, and ice cream to choke a hungry, hungry hippo. I'd be lying if I didn't say he would give up a limb for me; even his own _life._ Justin was one special buffalo; but he didn't focus his love on just me.

"Our family grew up in a very poor farmhouse, about twenty-five due west of Sahara Square. My father, thanks to a childhood injury, was bound to a wheelchair for life, and my mother had no choice but to work part-time in order to care for him while paying the basic bills for the house. Just when it looked like my mother couldn't take it anymore, Justin stepped in, and worked part-time as a janitor at the ZPD Precinct One Station to assist my mother with her financial debt, despite his load of schoolwork. As he brought in a small source of income for our family, he began forming stronger bonds with my family, which strengthened our relationships. He also made strong connections with none other than the officers of the ZPD, where he worked. When he wasn't scrubbing toilets clean or polishing windows, he sole purpose would be assisting officers: Organizing their paperwork, typing out case files, even starting off press conferences! But during his time at the ZPD, Justin became very close friends with the police chief back then: Leodore Lionheart. Kind of like how I admired Justin, Lionheart was a big role model for the latter. He'd help him with anything from schoolwork, to family issues, to things like coping with any stress that would arise. In all honesty, things just couldn't get any better for our family and for Justin. Life was perfect. That is, until Marie arrived.

"Marie was the goddaughter of Lionheart. She would often pay visits to the chief in his office at least once a week to kill a little time. Because Marie was homeschooled, there were scarce opportunities for experience what a normal high-schooler would. She had very few friends, no cliques to join, and lived a relatively low-key life in general thanks to her overprotective parents. But Lionheart…Lionheart was special to her. He was one of the few animals her parents could reliably trust on to watch over her. Therefore, the two could spend hours upon hours with each other. Some days, you'd catch them playing gin, even poker if a few other officers joined in. Other times, Lionheart would be teaching her how to draw from his background as a police sketch artist. From what he told me, Leo and Marie were essentially like father and daughter.

"So, thanks to Justin constantly working at the station, it was inevitable that Justin and Marie's paths would intersect. And once they did…There was no force in the universe that could separate them. At first, they were simply friends, with Leo serving as the medium between their conversations during some of the poker rounds. As time grew on, their bondage only grew stronger and stronger. Within a few weeks, they labeled each other as best friends. And many months later, they were in one of the healthiest and most beautiful relationships that both Leo and I have ever seen. Two buffalo, linked by a friendship that caught fire, had cast off on a ship that looked like it was never going to return. If I remember correctly…Yes, they were together for about a year and a half. Sounds about right.

"So, as the file that you and Nicholas looked over suggests, all good things must come to an end. As for Marie, her life was tragically cut short when she was involved in one of the gruesome accidents that Lionheart has ever seen. She was exactly eighteen years old on the day she died. Justin was incredibly happy to celebrate her birthday, so he invited her over one chilly winter evening. The couple spent a wonderful evening together at my family's house. There was a lovely dinner, a fun movie that we all watched, and a quick photo shoot by my mother. Those photos that you saw of Justin and Marie in that file? Those were taken by my mother on that very day. In all honesty, the evening couldn't be more perfect for the two.

"As snow began to sprinkle down on the ground, everyone began to grow nervous as to how Marie was going to get home safely. Marie had very little experience driving in snowy weather, and was uncomfortable driving home. My brother, being the kindest and most supportive animal in that very room, contemplated the best way to make sure she was safe. He practically fought with my parents, trying to persuade her to spend the night with the bad weather, which was only going to get worse. But my mother and father refused, stating that they felt rather uneasy with a girl spending the night at the place. Plan B was for Justin to drive Marie home, but that suggestion only heated the debate in the room, which Marie got involved in. By the end of the night, Justin and Marie were butting heads as to who was going to drive, each citing their other's safety as a reason. Marie didn't want to pose Justin's safety, but my brother insisted that he could do so. So this continued on, and on, and on, and on…The night ended with Marie storming out with her keys, convinced that she would be fine to drive home herself.

"We got the phone call about thirty-five minutes later. My mother was the one who answered the phone, and after soaking in about thirty seconds worth of information, the phone dropped out of her hand, and she went straight to the bathroom to throw up. Justin, evidently concerned as to what was going on, was the next one who picked up the phone. On the other end was Chief Lionheart, in deep distress as to what was happening. I was just innocently drawing pictures by the fireplace when I heard the panic in Justin's voice. I don't remember very much of what he said, but _'Is she okay?', 'Is she alive?',_ and _'Where?'_ were the three phrases that I will never forget. The rest of the night was a haze, but I specifically remember Justin running out the door with his car keys in hand, hyperventilating as he hustled his way out.

"Marie's funeral was a week later. Amongst the animals that attended included both her close and extended family, about three-fourths of the ZPD in Precinct One, and my parents and I. Justin was the only close contact that didn't attend. He locked himself in his room and held himself hostage in there for about a week. He couldn't stop grieving in anguish, nor could he find any spark of motivation to carry on with life. One of the things he said was that her death was his fault; if he never fought with her and tried to negotiate, then _maybe_ she would still be alive. Seeing the girl that he loved so much in such a small casket would've completely destroyed him. Despite what my parents said, and despite everything I said, he stayed in that room for as long as he could keep himself insane. Once he did build up the courage to leave his room, a completely different animal had remerged back into reality.

"He was much more provocative, hostile, and angry with my parents. Even the smallest pet peeves could send him over the edge. If I had to guess, I'd say roughly four nights out of a week ended with a broken coffee mug, muffled sobs, and slammed doors. It was like the keystone was dislodged, and our family was falling apart, getting worse day by day. Everything climaxed on one cold, dark day in February, when my parents decided they had enough of his hostility. They emitted him to a mental hospital on the outskirts of Zootopia, which you know as Cliffside. He was diagnosed with major depressive disorder, with a side of maniac depression to go along with it. Justin pleaded with my parents to take him back home, stating that there were "bad animals" and "voices in his head" which were tormenting him at the facility. But my parents refused. They've had enough of him. The one time my parents suggested that he could make an arranged visit was on Christmas Day. December twenty-fifth, nineteen sixty-seven."

Bogo stroked a tear away from his eye.

"That day only plunged our family into more sorrow and despair, symptoms that would drag on for years. I developed a social anxiety disorder and isolated myself to my bedroom to battle my inner demons. My mom began to show signs of depression herself. But the one that was most affected was my father. Losing a son was one of his worst nightmares, and the only way he could deal with the loss was a heavy dependence on alcohol. Unfortunately, because of my family's heritage, alcoholism has always been an issue; any one of us were susceptible to it. But because of the grief my father was undergoing, he felt like whiskey, vodka, and rum would help. But the alcohol only exacerbated his pain and sorrow.

"Despite being in just a wheelchair, my father became _even more_ hostile than Justin ever was. He didn't let his mobility restrict him to a wheelchair. He would thrust his way into any argument he could and tormented my mother and I. Screaming, yelling, blaming…They all became normal parts of my life. My overprotective father that I once knew became someone of a distant memory; someone I knew I would likely never encounter again. The last day I ever saw my father was after a climatic argument with my mother. He…He left bruises on her, and even spilled a little bit of blood. After witnessing such a horrible event, I gave in and called the police, despite the ongoing threats that he would do the same to me if I did so; I just couldn't hand it anymore. I had to…Defend myself with a knife while talking to Lionheart to ensure my father wouldn't get too close. Once he said someone was dispatched, for one brief moment, I thought I saw my old dad back. For just one brief moment, I thought that these things…Perhaps they were just a horrible dream. But before I could say another word or think another thought, my father began burning bridges. He took the keys to the family sedan, some important family documents, pulled out of the driveway, and drove away. I never saw him again.

"Cutting to the present, I received a parcel in the mail a few weeks ago. It was from my mother, who is currently in deteriorating health. Doctors say the cancer is eating her insides out; she has a few more months at most. Since that awful last day with my dad, she too has never seen nor made contact with my father. But to my dismay, she recently was able to obtain his will; apparently, he died four weeks after leaving us due alcohol poisoning. But somehow, we didn't find out until many decades later, when my mother mysteriously received the will from an ' _unknown friend'_. Enclosed in it were a few documents that revolved around Justin's death. And one of these documents was his suicide note. It was just a little poem that he wrote, a common practice of his back when he was… _Normal_. Reading the damn thing just put me through this calamity that I couldn't get out of. The day after I read the poem, I started drinking heavily and puffed several cigars per day, hoping that it would ease the neurological pain. But because a certain fox is in the hospital…Clearly that strategy isn't the right way to go."

Judy felt brainwashed upon hearing Jasiri's story. Behind his bold attitude, his bark, and his love for pop music, there was an inner child; one that was trapped in a steel cage constructed by depression, grief, and trauma. Her lips moved, but she couldn't hear a word she was saying.

"Anyway, that's my story. A life full of trauma drilled all these holes into my heart, and these scars…they just don't heal. Yet I don't feel the pain. Now I feel nothing."

"Cheese and crackers…Chief, err, Jasiri, I never knew about your tragic backstory. I'm so sorry that this had to happen to you..."

"Well, it's not your fault. You don't need to be sorry. In all honesty, I should be getting over it myself; tears sure as Hell won't bring him back."

Judy smirked.

"So, what do the sage leaves have to do with this visit? Just out of curiosity?"

"Well," trailed Bogo while glancing at the dancing snowflakes and clouds in TundraTown, "That all relates to my family heritage. There is a belief that my parents taught me which involves sage leaves."

Jasiri noticed a sage plant growing right beside him, squeezing through a separation of the glass ledge of the balcony. He leaned over and gently picked a reasonably large leaf. He also pulled a thread of wheat out of a nearby planter.

"If you write a wish down on a sage leaf, or rather sketch it in," he cooed while handing the flora to Judy, "And place it under your pillow at night for three days, then it will come true _if_ you envision that wish in a dream."

"Whoa…"

"But, if you don't envision that dream, then you must bury the sage leaf, for it can give harm if you don't do so."

Judy gazed at the sage leaf she was holding, fingering the microscopic hairs that grew across its surface.

"You buried your sage leaf at Justin's grave…What exactly did you wish for that was never meant to come true?"

"I wished that he would continue to teach me how to be happy…To be like he was before this adversity struck."

"Wow…I-I don't know what to say. I suppose that I should feel sorry for you, I guess…"

"Well, you're not the first animal who told me that upon this very explanation."

Judy's ears flicked up in surprise. "Wait-This isn't your first time doing this sage leaf thing?"

"This is my thirty-third time doing it. Once a year, on this very day: February twenty-fifth, the anniversary of the day I joined the ZPD. I joined the police because of his influence, you know. He very well may be the reason I get to have a badge, something to label me as a police officer," trailed Jasiri, "But no wish would be greater than to see his smile and his happy personality just one more time."

Without warning, Judy spontaneously wrapped her arms around one of his gigantic, muscular arms. She squeezed as tightly as her small anatomy would allow her.

"Thank you," she mumbled through his jacket.

"Thank me? For what?"

"For telling me that," she spoke while releasing the hug. "That means a lot."

"Well, it feels good to say it to someone who _at least_ cares about it even a little bit. Clawhauser, Delgado, McHorn…I put them to sleep when I took them here."

Judy let out a warm chuckle.

"Say, while we are here, why don't you write a little wish on your sage leaf? Try it out; perhaps you'll be luckier than I will," reiterated Bogo.

"Well, I'm not big with superstition, but…Why not?"

Grasping the stalk of the wheat, Judy scanned her mind for ideas, concepts, and wishes that she has always desired to have. Several contenders ran by: an unlimited supply of carrots, her family moving to Zootopia, and the penthouse suite of the Amazon Tower, to name a few. However, Judy sparked a satisfying and fun wish, and wasted no time transcribing it onto the sage leaf.

"Well? What does it say?"

Judy smirked again. "Well…I'll tell you if it comes true. How 'bout that?"

"Alright, fine."


	12. Thyme

The engine of Jasiri's sedan coughed up several bouts of tar-black smoke before it eventually roared back to life. A mild and unsteady whirr shook the car as the engine picked up momentum. Once the pistons were able to maintain a steady equilibrium with a steady income of gasoline, Jasiri nudged his car out of the parking spot across the street. Just thirty minutes transformed his parking space from a nice slide-in to a tight fit; a fight of space in terms of parallel parking. It was just one of the bugs of living in the city. Parking was always like the weather in northern TundraTown: whether you like it or not, it'll be different in the next five minutes. As he drove off, with Judy strapped in by his side, Bogo noticed in his rear-view mirror that his spot was already in the process of being claimed by yet another driver.

The heartbeat of Downtown, propelled by the flow of energy from cars, pedestrians, and trains, continued to swell as Jasiri navigated his way through the compact streets. The chaotic nature of the city seemed to be driven into an unsteady equilibrium; every good characteristic would be driven by a bad one, and vice versa. If there were heaping piles of garbage outside a stop, chances are the garbage truck was just around the corner. Whenever a store would close up for a lunch break, another would open up to start their day. The obnoxious, potent, and sweet smell of exhaust would be counteracted by the brisk and frigid trade winds from TundraTown, all while the flow of traffic would course through the maze of the city in harmony. Despite his age, Bogo always believed that this was his favorite part of the city; it's harmony in equilibrium. Speaking of traffic, it would be best to get an update on any backups ahead.

"Hey Judy, would mind checking to see if there's going to be any traffic on the way back to the hospital?" he asked.

"On Zoogle maps? Sure. Just gimme a second…"

Judy began navigating her way through the apps, websites, and features to get a feed of traffic information on her phone. Jasiri found the ticks it emulated to be rather distracting. Despite having to think on his feet with every impulsive lane switch, turn, and brake, for some he always found his attention being back thrusted to her phone. Each tap, swipe, and pop that would broadcast from her phone grew into a pet-peeve that derived his attention from the road. Perhaps it was like a bug orbiting his face, refusing to give up company, or perhaps it was just due to his grouchiness not being caught up with twenty-first century technology.

"So? What's the scoop so far?" he pressed, trying to get the noises out of his head.

"I'm getting it…Looks like if you take southbound towards I-70, then you'll be generally traffic free. Or, at least that's what my phone says."

Bogo glanced over his shoulder to make a lane change. "I-70 it is…"

"So, just out of curiosity, how did you get so good at driving around the city like this? Even with the practice I've had, Nick still taunts me each time we go on patrols."

"Well…The key is that you always want to assume that each driver around you is out to kill you."

"What?!"

"You heard me. I generally like to think that each driver could do one of the stupidest things imaginable," he dribbled while pointing at a small Boltzwagen Beagle that was waiting to turn right in front of them. "Now, as an example, if I assume that this wolf in the yellow car forgets to glance left for some reason and turned out in front of us without seeing us coming, I can mentally prepare myself to hit the brakes, which could possibly save me a trip to the auto shop and a hassle with the insurance company."

"That's an interesting strategy. What made you come up with that?"

"Working long enough in the force, Judy. Eventually, when you get to patrol much more often, you'll see some drivers that are literally _out of their minds_. Unfathomable stupidity."

"Good to know. I've been too unprepared for those kinds of drivers back when I was learning to drive in BunnyBurrow. Chances are I was one of them myself!" she chuckled.

"Yeah…Who knows? Maybe if Marie was careful enough to drive slow in snowy weather that night, then this whole mess would have perhaps never happened."

"Well…I operate under the philosophy that you can never just change the past. No matter how hard you try, what's done is done. Just accept it and move on; every sixty seconds spent on worrying is a minute of happiness lost."

"Can't disagree with you there, Hopps. There's quite an extensive list of things that I wish I could just undo; like hit a _reset_ button, perhaps. My father once taught me such an idea. Being stuck in a wheelchair his entire life made him wish that he never fooled around so much as a kid. There are things like that I wish I could just redo."

"Like what?"  
"Oh, you know…Being such a stubborn young'un, being a grouchy officer when you started out, my transition to alcohol and cigars recently...Just to name a few."

"Yeah?"

"The list goes on and on…You'd be surprised at the amount of issues I've had to take as a police chief. Both work related and personal."

The two sat in a suspended moment of silence, a silence that was filled with the rumbling of Jasiri's engine, passing cars, and finally a right-hand blinker that hurled Judy and Jasiri on the southbound ramp towards I-70. His car slowly began to pick up speed, hurdling down the rightmost lane of I-25, the interstate that looped throughout the entire city. The faster Bogo's car travelled, the more prominent a high-pitched whirr that came from the tires trolleying across the grooved surface of the interstate became. The drive, however, wasn't entirely scenic; throughout the entire loop, the road is completely isolated between two large concrete walls, covering a majority of the possible views that made Zootopia so beautiful.

As she glanced forward, Judy noticed and eventually picked up a small slip of blank paper that was resting on Jasiri's windshield.

"Now, what about hurting Nick? You'd hit the reset button on that too, right?"

"Hey, there's another good one! I'd definitely reset that one if I ever got the chance," gleamed Bogo.

Judy let out a sour chuckle.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing," huffed Judy as she began to tinker with the piece of paper, "I'm just somewhat surprised, perhaps rather amused, that assaulting Nick wasn't the first thing that came out of your mouth on your ' _List of things you'd want to reset_. Especially since I'm around."

"Uh…Okay?"

"Or maybe writing a letter to Nick and I, pleading that we shouldn't press charges? Would you take that back too?" she growled.

"Take it easy, Hopps. I'm not trying to come out as being aggressive right now. We're just having a nice, casual conversation."

"Would you take it back?"

"Judy...Relax. You're getting worked up about a silly little letter! It doesn't even mean that much to you anyway."

"What, you think I'm joking? Do you actually think that thinks are all good now? Do you think that Nick and I, let alone the ZPD, will just gloss over this as a _minor incident_? Are you serious?"

"Look, take a step back!" barked Jasiri. "What's with all these accusations and rude comments? You came to see Justin with me! You _hugged_ me out of comfort! You were even polite enough to listen to my story and offer me sympathy. Isn't that enough to show that you at least understand who I am?"

"So? Since when did showing me your backstory make things right?"

"I never said that it di-"

"Then explain to me why you would send the file about your brother and his girlfriend. Explain to me how something like that, despite how tragic it was, somehow gives you the privilege to chuck a _water bottle_ at my partner's head! And don't say that it was because you're grieving over Justin. You seriously injured Nick! The one partner that's also one of my only friends…Do you even know how much I _love_ him?"

A tear rolled down Judy's cheek as her boiling blood began to settle down. Jasiri remained silent, uncomfortably keeping his attention and the sloth-like traffic. By the time the stiff air was showing vague sings of lifting, the flow of traffic started to slow down.

"Just remember that I never said I forgave you. Just because I offered sympathy and respect to a passed family member doesn't mean I still hate what you did. And I sure as hell am sure Nick is thinking the same thing right now, right as we speak. I don't care how bad your backstory may be. No one," threatened Judy as she crumbled the piece of paper in her hand, "Messes with the one I love. _No one._ Expect this week to be your last, Buffalo-Butt."

Jasiri turned to Judy with a look of disgust. "What did you just call me?"

Judy didn't respond; she simply gazed out the car window, gazing at the cars that surrounded them.

"Hopps."

Nothing.

"God damn it, Hopps. LOOK AT ME!" warned Bogo; his knuckles turned a hazy shade of white.

"Whatever you're going to do to me…I don't want to see it coming."

The remark shook Jasiri to the core.

"What do you mean?"

"If you're going to hurt me…Just make it quick. At least we're already on our way to the hospital."

"For crying out loud, give me a break, Judy! You know I wouldn't do that to you."

For the first time since they left downtown, Judy looked straight at Jasiri.

"No I don't. I've had a very difficult time believing anything you say, especially if it comes with some phony excuse."

"Phony excuse?"

A sudden onset of stalled traffic briefly redirected Bogo's attention back to the road. What was once a near-empty freeway suddenly evolved to a cluster of steel, pistons, and whirring engines.

"Right. I've noticed that whenever you do something controversial…You try to desperately cover your tracks. Taking me on this trip to see your brother…Writing that letter for Nick…Prepping that case file for us…It's all foiled attempt to keep your job, isn't it?"

Without an input of thought, Jasiri slammed on the brakes, stalling the car in the middle of the congested hallway. He lifted his hands off of the steering wheel and confronted Judy.

"Alright, then. You want to play that game? Then we'll _play that game_." The last three words that leaked from his mouth sounded like claws traversing across a blackboard. "I didn't want it to happen like this Hopps, but I'm afraid I have no other choice. Here's my proposal: I want you and Nick to drop the charges against me. And that is an order."

"Have you lost your marbles?! Why on Earth would we do that?"

"Let's keep it nice and simple. Either I walk out a free mammal, or both you and Nick will be suspended indefinitely for insubordination. Do we have ourselves a deal?"

"WHAT?!"

"Do…We…Have…A…Deal?" threatened Bogo, with a voice slow enough to bore even the sloths at the DMV.

Judy could do nothing but choke on her words. Shoving blackmail down her throat was the last thing Judy expected Bogo to do. Someone with such leadership, management, and professionalism began to use her as a tool to keep him in power. She was absolutely horrified at the situation that was unfolding. It was absolutely disgusting, but then again, what other choice did she have? If Bogo was really only going to pay eighty percent of his bill recovery, like he promised in the letter to Nick, then the other twenty would come out of Nick's paycheck. If the hospital treatment bill keeps getting longer, then the only way it could all be paid off is if Nick, perhaps Judy too, keeps receiving the crisp, turgid paychecks each month. She was left with no other option. Judy took a deep breath and rebuilt her composure.

"Fine."

"Splendid! I appreciate you working with me, Hopps. As a token of my appreciation, I'll let you have today off. How does that sound?"

Judy groaned.

"There you go! Ya see, working with old Bogo isn't so bad, now is it?"

Judy didn't answer Bogo's question. Instead, she focused on channeling her anger and fury from the loathed buffalo to the slip of paper she still had in her hands. Transforming boiled blood into mechanical energy, Judy compressed the slip of paper until it was nothing but a jagged, stiff, and sturdy pebble of diminished wood pulp. She was actually quite surprised on how small and stiff the material became. Juggling it for a few seconds, Judy ultimately tossed it aside, and looked for new ways to burn the buildup of steam in her body.

"What ever happened to a clear route to the hospital?" asked Bogo, in a burning, dirty voice that felt like it was bluntly taunting her. The muddy sense of pride that seemed to control him put bile in Judy's throat. Nevertheless, she didn't want him to envelope her with more threats. Getting on one hook was just one thing; but when twenty fishermen would get a hold of her, all for different reasons, even the tiniest misstep, flick of the tail, or shuffle could shred her apart.

"I don't know. A new accident must have just happened or something."

"Would you mind checking for me please?"

"Sir, it's probably just going to be a couple of minutes. Honesty, I doubt it's worth checking."

"What the fuck is it with you rabbits and insubordination?!" snapped Bogo.

"S-sorry. I'm on it," stuttered Judy, promptly reaching for her phone to get traffic feed.

"Yes…That's more like it."

Judy pulled up a refreshed traffic report with impromptu speed, despite a pair of trembling arms making it difficult to navigate the small screen on her device.

"Uh…It lo-looks like it clears up abo-about a half mile ahead."

"Splendid!"

"Can I get you anything else, Nick?"

"D…Do you have any ice cream? That would hit the spot."

"Well, we have sherbet. Would that be okay?"

"Sure! Anything to calm this rabid fever."

"What flavor would you like?"

Nick contemplated a wide spectrum of flavors that came to mind before picking out his favorite.

"You wouldn't happen to have any blueberry by chance, would you?"

"No, sorry. I wish!" chuckled Andrea. "But we do have orange, raspberry, lime, and pineapple."

"Ooh, raspberry sounds good!"

"Alright, I'll get that out for you."

Andrea stood up and disappeared from Nick's suite, once again reserving it for himself. Despite being a natural predator, his mouth became oversaturated with saliva, as the crave for a frozen desert grew. He could only hope that the chilliness of the treat would counteract a brutal fever (which Andrea mentioned was a common blood substitute side-effect), all while the taste of his _second_ favorite berry would guzzle his sweet tooth in bliss and harmony.

Even without the sheets, Nick was slowly but steadily burning up. Dollops of sweat built up across the vast majority of his body, yet it did little to combat his discomfort. Nick could easily imagine a heating lamp just inches away from his face. If he closed his eyes, it was almost as if he could envision the portentous orange bulbs, cooking his insides into seasoned, well-done vulpini. Perhaps another dose of aspirin was in order; the aspirin that he took an hour ago didn't seem very effective in combating the heat that scalded his body. It would be worth asking Andrea when she returned; but perhaps sherbet would do the trick. It was at least worth a shot.

Feeling a sudden onset of sleepiness, Nick spread his arms upwards and out, stretching out any cramping and stress that was built up within his muscles. As his right arm returned to rest by his hip, Nick unintentionally knocked over a loose folder that was sitting on the edge of his nightstand. Glancing over the side of his bed, all he saw was the upchuck of old documents and photographs, dismantled in a chaotic and unorganized collage. All of which revolved around Bogo, his mysterious brother Justin, and a dead girlfriend. The sight disgusted Nick, and he redirected his focus to a nearby display which was showing the radiography scans that were taken just half an hour ago.

Although not life-threatening, the damage that Bogo induced was not minor by any standard. The official report, penned by both Andrea and an ICU doctor, bared a diagnosis of a depressed skull fracture from blunt force. The sheer blood loss resulted in hemorrhagic shock; nearly one-fifth of his blood was lost in the attack. Where the water bottle landed exacerbated what would have been just an open flesh wound; striking and puncturing the superficial temple artery lead to the severe blood loss, resulting in Nick slipping into unconsciousness so quickly. The blood loss left the doctors no other choice but to provide a blood substitute and several medicines; only then did his energy levels and normal bodily functions diminish during a time of mayhem.

Luckily for Nick, however, was the piece of news he received earlier that day which suggested that he was only going to spend a few more days in the hospital. Chances were that by the end of the week, he would be sent home with a care package stuffed with glamorous, colorful pills and a one-month medical leave from work. Nick sought the opportunity to guzzle enough episodes of _Franger Things_ to catch him up with the ongoing TV trends that Judy has insisted he's been missing out on. His drifting train of thought came to a grinding halt at the sight of Andrea walking in.

"Alright…" she murmured while balancing the cup of bright-pink sherbet on a metal tray. "You're in luck! Even though we don't have blueberry sorbet, I was able to toss a few actual blueberries on top to ornament your treat. Will that work for you?"

Nick could have insisted that started drooling upon hearing her remark.

"Whaaaaaaaa-" he drawled.

"You can thank me later."

Andrea gently set the tray on Nick's lap, giving caution to not allow the cup of sherbet to drift. Once she was assured that he was able to keep it steady, she walked towards the doorframe.

"Anything else I can get you?"

Nick recalled his request from earlier regarding the aspirin.

"Uh, I still feel like a TundraTown polar bear in the middle of Sahara Square thanks to this fever. Does aspirin take a long time to kick in, or should I take another dose?"

"Hmmm…You said you took a dose about an hour ago, right?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"Tell you what, I'll give you a packet of baby aspirin that you can either eat with your sorbet or wash down with some water. It may taste a bit sour, but the dissolved medicine should kick in rather quickly."

"Works for me!"

"Alright, let me go get tha-"

Andrea's flow of words was abruptly cut short upon being caught off-guard by something down the hall. Oblivious to Nick, Andrea grew concerned upon the sight of something.

"Uh…Excuse me for a second."

Without saying another word, Andrea closed the sliding glass door and busted a small jog down the hallway, eventually dodging out of sight of Nick. The affair puzzled him, and curiosity grew to concern. That is, until he heard two very faint, distinct, but very familiar muffled voices lingering just outside his hospital suite. Although he couldn't make out any vocabulary that they were communicating to each other, their tones and definition were unmistakable.

After all, he was Nick Wilde. He knew everybody. Wanting to eavesdrop, Nick took a small bite of his sorbet and tuned in.

The first muffled voice he heard was a deep and penetrating female accent, which could have only radiated from Andrea. Logistically speaking, Nick knew that she was talking to somebody; perhaps a doctor, a patient, or even a visitor.

The other distressed intonation that his ears picked up possessed a soft, warm, and comforting quality to it; not only was it a delight to listen to, but he could distinguish that very voice from anyone else's in the world.

None other than Judith Laverne Hopps.

A surprising sense of relief suddenly flushed through his body. Even though he should have grown used to seeing her around the hospital so much within these past few days, Nick could do nothing but smile after realizing the surprise visitor out his front door. An impromptu and abrupt organization of his bedside was in order. He gently set aside the sherbet and dressed the sheets, making them look at least humane to sleep on. Furthermore, Nick dusted any trace particles off his fur and robes, all while shuffling any loose papers out of sight or into organization. His jitteriness behavior came to an abrupt halt when a masked silhouette crept across the blurred and darkened window that led to his door suite. Hoping to avoid an awkward encounter at the door, Nick grabbed the first slip of paper on top of his nightstand and pretended to read it just as she walked in through the door.

"N-Nick?" whimpered a soft and fragile voice.

Pretending to act surprised, the fox lowered the document, which turned out to be a receipt from his MRI scan earlier that morning. Standing in the doorframe were the tear-stained eyes of little miss Fluff-Butt.

"Judy? What are you doing here?"

The rabbit didn't even whisper a response. Without any consent, Judy invited herself right into Nick's room, stumbling right towards his bedside with a slouched and ashamed posture. Not once did she make eye contact.

"Judy? What's wrong? Are you okay?"

Nick saw her eyes swell up with hot tears; tears that dribbled down her cheeks and splashed onto the bed. Judy grasped the bed's handlebar, throwing her head into his lap. The silent weeps exploded into muffled sobs.

"My goodness. Talk to me, Judy! What happened?" pleaded Nick, feeling a lump develop in his throat.

Once she could catch a breath from being reduced to tears, Judy lifted her head up and stood back up.

"It's Bogo. That nasty, no-good, son of a…"

Her words were replaced by more chocked up howls.

"Oh my God…Com'here, baby girl," purred Nick.

Gathering as much mite has he could, all while holding back the fever and aches, Nick leaned up and grasped Judy, picking her up by the arms. Like a prized delicacy, he carried her tenderly towards his body, allowing her to rest directly by his side.

"Sssh. It's okay, Judy. I'm here for you. Breathe."

Judy wrapped her paws around Nick's chest, and continued to cry into his hospital cloth. As seconds turned into minutes, she grasped his robe tightly, treating him like a stuffed toy.

Nick began to gently stroke her head and ears while she buried herself into his body. Her fur was so silky and soft, all while being nostalgic and comforting. As her teary episode began to diminish, Nick pulled Judy close and held her right beside him. Despite the raging fever that continued to cook his insides, feeling the heat radiate from Judy's body overjoyed Nick. Judy briefly paused her weeping and glanced up at Nick for reassurance. Her guardian eyes, a beautiful shade of crystal purple, evoked supernatural and powerful emotion within Nick. Yet the eyes were not her only characteristics which stood out. He couldn't stop looking at Judy as a whole. Her fragile and endearing paws were sights to endure. Each time he inspected them, the envision of grasping it and holding onto it would be engraved into his brain, and it would not escape. His mind was constantly adrift and lost, with any abstract thought implanted within her flushed cheeks and flappy ears. Feeling her near hit him blindsided with grace, charm, and gleaming intensity; intensity that he has never experienced so heavily. Almost overwhelmed with emotion, a grateful tear condensated and cascaded down Nick's heavy face. He was drifting away on cloud nine, and as time seemed to be held in suspension, he wanted this state of bliss to be withheld forever.

Without much control over his body, Nick felt himself attracted to Judy's soft and warm body. Absent-mindedly, he pecked the top part of her noggin, a gesture which was meet with a face-to-face confrontation. Admiring the aesthetic geometry and beauty that built her face tore Nick's heart to shreds; she was the most beautiful living creature that he had ever seen. He gently grasped her head in his paws, holding her close and steady. Without verbal consent, Nick stroked away a tear that began to tumble. Judy gleamed out another characteristic smile, accompanied by a light giggle. Not holding back for another second, Nick's face dived towards her lips. His lips pressed against hers, establishing ancient bonds of harmony, unity, and romance. His veins coursed with dopamine, and from then on would be addicted to the powerful sensation.

She tasted nice; it didn't matter that she didn't take any breath mints, or that she was perhaps feasting on carrots whenever his back was turned to her. Her lips tasted like sweet honey; they welcomed his upon contact, and seemed to stick the longer the two kissed. Although the moment lasted for no more than three seconds, somehow it felt much more like time was stretched to the outskirts of infinity. The blissful moment would never end for Nick as long as he desired to hold her hand, hold her warm and near, or kiss her sugar lips.

"Feeling better?" he asked after their lips separated.

"Much better."

"That's good. So what was the problem? I never like to see you sad, Carrots."

"Right, about that. We need to have a serious chat."

"Right. But before we get to the chit-chat, look what I have!"

Nick displayed the tray of sherbet that was sitting next to him, dressed with blueberries and vibrant colors.

"Want a bite?"

"Oh, why not? You sure you don't want some?"

"I did initially, but not anymore, really."

"Why not?"

Nick reached up and stroked her face. "Because my sweet tooth craving is already satisfied. Who needs raspberry sorbet when the sweetest thing on Earth is just sitting on my lap?"

"Oh, stop it, you dork! I swear, if I have to hear one more cheesy, cliché remark from you, then I'm going to lose my marbles."

"Pssh. You can say that again."

Judy began to drift off. "Lose my marbles…"

"Alright, Smart Aleck, you're milking it."

No more than a blank stare was molded into Judy's face.

"Judy?"

Still nothing. After a fruitless attempt to get a response, Nick waved his paw in front of Judy's eyes. The gesture seemed to snap her back to reality.

"Hey, you doing alright?"

"Oh…Yeah. Sorry, I'm lost in thought."

"Is it related to Bogo, by chance?"

Judy nodded.

"Well, if you're comfortable talking about it," stated Nick while gently resting his paw on hers, "I'm all ears. Feel free to ramble on for _hours_ for all I care."

With permission to lecture all about the day's events, Judy began to trail off on everything that happened in chronological order. With a sharp tone and attitude that sounded like it could derive from a drill sergeant, she very nearly bit Nick's head off with every single one of her remarks. Everything from the letter, to his first name, to the events at the Amazon Tower, and finishing with the threat on the way back, Judy was unrestricted in the way she communicated to Nick. Although the events that took place didn't last for more than a couple of hours, Judy needed an entire dictionary and about twenty spare minutes to recite and recap her experience with Bogo. Once she managed to exhaust every running thought in her mind, nearly tearing up again in the process, she shifted the spotlight over to Nick, giving him the chance to speak as well.

"I…I don't know what to say," he mumbled.

"It's a lot to soak in, but I just thought you should know."

Nick glanced at the spilled files on the ground and spotted the photo of Justin and Marie peeking out from the bottom of the pile. It sent shivers down his spine.

"So you listened to his side of the story, tried to act polite about it, avoided social taboos in public, but the second you disagreed with him, he blackmailed you?"

"Mhm."

"What the heck is he thinking?! That's not the Chief Bogo I know. The Chief Bogo I know…Is a completely different mammal. One that works like PB&J with Clawhauser yet holds together the ZPD. He's one that's sharp with orders but is generally quite tame. I don't understand…"

"What should we do? We have no evidence to put Jasiri in court, and if we utter one peep about pressing charges against him, then we lose our jobs. That's not an option; with your medical bills, and our individual housing costs, being fired just isn't an option. Good grief, Nick! It's like he's holding us hostage! If only there was a way to put him in the hot seat…"

Out of the blue, an idea suddenly sparked inside Nick's head. Hundreds of thousands of neurons began to fire and relay information across his clever brain, each transmitting concepts, ideas, and experimentation towards a new idea; one that really could put Bogo in the _hot seat_.

"Carrots…You just gave me an idea…"

Judy's ears flicked up in curiosity. "What? What is it?"

"If we need evidence in order to convict that nasty son of a bitch, then why don't we just get it ourselves?"

"Okay…How would we do that?"

"Well…You still have that carrot pen, right?"

"Never leave home without it!" gleamed Judy while taking it out of her back pocket.

"So here's what I'm thinking: If Bogo isn't going to say anything, then we need to find a way for him to confess. We got to find a way to put him in the _hot seat_. And once he breaks, then a simple audio recording from this gnarly carrot pen will set us free."

"Just like Bellwether…Nick, you're a genius!" shouted Judy.

"I know I am. You can thank me later."

Judy was ecstatic enough to do backflips. Never before has she ever been more overjoyed to solve a crime like this one before. But doing backflips on Nick's bed probably wouldn't slide without some sort of injury, so she had to withhold her excitement to double foot-taps.

"So how should we flush that confession out of him?"

"Uh…" stalled Nick, "I haven't gotten that far. I may be a genius, but I'm no Einstein, Carrots."

"Well, then we better start brainstorming, yeah?"

"We could," he offered while wrapping an arm around Judy's waist, "or we could sleep on it. I read somewhere that taking power naps can boost creative thoughts."

Judy giggled. "I wouldn't be opposed to that! I am quite tired…"

"Me too." Nick pulled her right beside him, and tossed the old, ratty hospital blankets over the two. Judy snuggled next to her favorite fox, feeding off his warmth and comfort.

"You sure the hospital staff won't mind this?" she asked.

Without uttering a word, Nick tucked her ears out of sight and pulled the covers over her soft, little head.

"Meh."

Before his mind drifted off, a peculiar and odd rustling sound startled him out of sleepiness. Judy began to toss and turn, as if she was looking to find a comfortable position. Nick didn't think much of it, until he felt a lump starting to crawl underneath his pillow.

"What the heck-" he mumbled while lifting it up. The culprit? Judy's paw, which looked like it was holding a bizarre green plant.

"What are you doing, Carrots?"

"Folklore! I didn't tell you this, but Bogo taught me a tradition where if you write a wish on a sage leaf and slip it under your pillow for three days, it will come true if you dream about it!"

Nick found the idea to be quite humorous.

"So let me get this straight: You wouldn't trust Buffalo-Butt with your life, but you'd be willing to believe in his superstition?"

"I don't know…I just wanted to try it out. For fun!"

"Well, what does this wish say?"

"Read it for yourself!"

Nick gently grasped the leaf out of her hand and gently unfolded it. Reading the few lines of text made him chuckle and smile at the same time.

"Well…We better start dreaming!" he remarked while folding the leaf back up.

Judy giggled with him.

Without any more dialogue, Nick gently set the sage leaf underneath his pillow and tucked himself and Judy in. Before drifting off to sleep for good, he kissed the top of her head again.

"Maybe I do love you, Carrots. Just sayin'."

"Me too."


	13. Silent Night

The peaceful and silent night of Christmas blessed the City of Zootopia. The sounds of children's laughter, hymns from the choruses of the churches, and the ringing of the bells from the Salivation Pack volunteers fluttered throughout the chilly winds that blew across the city. Snowflakes danced their way throughout TundraTown, blowing with harmony as they corkscrewed towards smoky chimneys, snow-blanketed rooftops, and bright, colorful Christmas lights that snaked across the borough. Geysers rhythmically ejaculated bouts of snow and ice particles into the ecosystem, stabilizing the chilly weather of the ecosystem throughout the night. Next door in Sahara Square, the gigantic heating lamps that lurked towards the edge of the desert maintained a dry, humid climate by periodically surging waves of heat energy throughout its dunes. The heat cascaded over any mounts of sand, dissipated into the atmosphere, or kissed the gentle waves on the beach. Every square footage of canopy in the Rainforest District was dotted with warm, active, and dancing ribbons of light. As unalienable and exotic beats of drums echoed throughout the versatile landscape, children and their parents celebrated under dancing torches that would be suspended on tree trunks, terraces, rooftops, and within houses. Ribboned throughout the cool, humid air of Savanna Central were the dancing Christmas Lights that lit the streets with their majesty. Highlighting the positive energy and spirit within the city, however, was a mesmerizing, god-like Christmas tree which overlooked the positive energy coursing throughout the city.

The trunk of the magnificent Kauri, peaking out at over 140 feet tall, would be hauled in from an outback suburb once a year using complex mechanical equipment, only to be slowly guided and casted in towards the heart of Savanna Central, overlooking City Hall, Precinct One, and the hundreds of buildings that wrapped around it. Once the tree was finally brought in, work would be vigorously done to decorate the Kauri with magnificent lights, ornaments, and a gigantic golden star for the holiday season. Despite the beauty of the tree and its majesty towards the city, decorating it was no walk in the park. The sheer height, lack of supporting branches, and abnormally large trunk diameter made its flourishment rather difficult. Forklifts, cherry pickers, and even cranes would need to get involved in order to complete the work of art. But in the end, everyone agreed that the task was worth it. Not only does the Kauri highlight the magic and optimism associated with the holidays, but it symbolizes the harmony and workmanship that the city relies upon. The awestruck beauty of the city on this very special evening would assure every one of its citizens would sleep in heavenly peace.

"Here's the hot chocolate for you, sir," gleamed a pig wearing a Santa Paws hat as he set the Styrofoam cup on the counter, "Would you like your receipt this evening?"

"No thank you."

"Alright, then. You have yourself a merry little Christmas!"

"Thanks, same goes for you."

Justin picked up the warm treat and grasped it with both hands. Without further redo, he shuffled his way out of the small corner store back into the chilly evening of TundraTown. As he resumed his walk throughout the city, Justin suddenly recalled the two coins in his pocket, and busted a quick jog back to the street corner shop, made his way inside, and dropped the change into a near-empty tip jar. The ecstatic pig gleamed at the gesture. Indeed, his cheeks had evolved a dark shade of rosy-pink. The brisk winds from the TundraTown air likely augmented his emotions, for the cashier's desk was right in the line of fire of the icy gusts that crawled throughout the borough.

"For working the evening shift," winked Justin.

"Thank you, sir! God bless!"

Hustling his way back to the streets, Justin sipped his hot chocolate, which was indeed hot enough to momentarily fry his tongue. Expelling the molten lava and spilling the droplets on the street, he promptly popped the lid off of the Styrofoam cup and allowed the cold to dilute his drink. Justin slipped a candy cane out of his left pocket, which was given to him by a Salivation Pack volunteer in Sahara Square, and dropped it in his delight, allowing it to steep and give the drink a sweet and spicy twist to it. As he allowed his hot chocolate to cool down a little bit, Justin pressed on with his walk throughout the open quartet of Zootopia's boroughs. With only a light jacket to insulate any body heat, the past half-hour in the second to last area he has visited drained the reserves of heat within him. Mingled shivers and cloudy breaths were the only things that kept him company during his stroll through the streets.

Up ahead was a beautiful stone arch bridge that he had to cross over in order to traverse to another part of TundraTown: Maroon Village, one of the most eye-striking traditional neighborhoods within the whole city. Pressing on, Justin wandered into the neighborhood, strolling by dozens upon dozens of houses composited with thousands of bricks that aligned with the ancient cobblestone streets.

An alien shade of green slowly began to light up the night sky above him. Blankets of an awe-striking aurora sprinkled and danced in the sky above him. Observing them from the surface of the Earth, Justin couldn't help but admire the sheets that galloped right above his head. These bright shades of green that the aurora possessed looked to be capped with small bits of orange-red, one of the rarest forms of the phenomena. As beautiful as they were, Justin didn't feel as awestruck as he had once seen them to be. For many years, both him and his father would cast out to see the beautiful blankets of light at around Mid-December. Perhaps he was losing interest in seeing them, or perhaps it was just that he was growing apart from his father. Maybe the aurora reminded him of his most recent encounter with his wheelchair bound father.

' _Look, now if you just give me a chance, I can prove to you that I can stay!'_

 _'Your mother and I have already made up our minds, and we're going to keep you at Cliffside until you come back with a clean bill of health, whenever that may be. End of discussion.'_

 _'C'mon! You surely can't believe those buffoons, right? I'm fine! You know that, right?'_

 _'_ _ **No.**_ _No I don't. Not until we, your mother, Jasiri, and I, are assured that you can live here without causing a racket! We can do nothing but trust the doctors more than you right now, Justin.'_

 _'Please…'_

 _'Look, I'm going to keep this short and sweet so we can return to Mom and Jasiri at the dinner table. You're living in a dream, Justin. Just as nothing will bring Marie back, nothing is going to change our minds. I don't want to have to take you back because you're bashing heads with us. Please, Justin! I beg you! Don't make me regret bringing you over here for Christmas, your favorite holiday! Can you just keep it together for a couple more hours?'_

 _'Heh…I just can't understand your impeccable logic, dad. What ever happened to your philosophy of moral values, huh?! First you beg your suicidal son to stay for dinner, but the second he suggests about spending a few nights, then you drag me out here going bat shit crazy!'_

 _'What ever happened to my old son, Justin? It was sad, I'll admit. But you can't just keep looking back. Your mother and I have worried so much about you; not a single day goes on here without missing you. You understand that, right?_

 _'If the bullshit that just came out of your mouth was even remotely true, then you wouldn't put me through Hell at that god-forsaken hospital. Look, can't you understand that the only present I want this year is to be home for good?'_

 _'I know you want that, Justin. But if you keep picking fights with us and continue to develop symptoms of maniac depression, then it just can't happen. I'm sorry.'_

 _'You're not sorry'_

 _'I beg your pardon?_

 _'If you were really sorry, then you would keep me here, at least for a few nights. It's because of this bullshit that I loathe having to hear from you idiots!'_

 _'Alright, fine. You want to play that kind of game, then we will. Where are my keys?'_

 _'Dad…I swear to God…If you're doing what I think you're do-'_

 _'You're damn right you know what I'm doing! I can't keep you here anymore. I've tried to reason with you, but it feels like I'm talking to a brick wall, and no brick wall is a member of the family. Now either get in the damn car or I'm calling the cops.'_

 _'You wouldn't dare…'_

 _'Try me.'_

The last thing Justin remembers from that encounter was running away. He ran like Hell, without any reason or rhyme. Not once did he look back; it would be about four hours before he slowed down to a walking pace upon entering the outskirts of Savanna Central, the borough of Zootopia which lied twenty miles from his house.

Windows that he walked by depicted families uniting in grace and harmony for Christmas feasts, opening and playing with presents, or singing holiday numbers. Not one house showed evidence of anything but beauty. Wreaths hung above fireplaces, guarding families as they celebrated the holiday. Many houses leached the mouth-watering scent of a Christmas Roast, cookies, and the Bûche de Noël. One family had the luxury of singing Christmas carols under an out of tune piano, while their next-door neighbors were pouring champagne into glasses and preparing toasts for the entire family. The air was suspended in peace and harmony, without any traces of bitterness whatsoever.

Yet the calm and peaceful night was anything but for Justin, who was submerged in a surreal and confusing dream, where he was plunging into a pit of mass confusion and despair. The silent night was no match for the cries and confusion that struck him all but a few hours ago, which reminded Justin about his life that seemed unreal.

On his left, Justin saw a small school group, mostly consisted of polar bears, constructing some sort of giant snowball. It was already about three feet tall, and looked quite ominous with each handful of snow that would be molded onto it. As a young'un slapped another batch of snow onto the monster, the snowball finally had enough mass to roll by itself. The children set themselves and their giggles aside as they watched their creation funnel its way down a relatively shallow slope, picking up speed and snow as it continued its journey. It was quite bizarre to think how the more mass the snowball picked up, the faster it would begin to roll. Each revolution magnified its speed seemingly exponentially. After continuing on for quite some time, the gigantic snowball made its way down a steep path which glided underneath a beautiful stone arch bridge. As it thrusted its way underneath the arch, the snowball deviated from its expected path and broke apart upon hitting one of the walls that constructed the bridge.

The children screamed, laughed, and celebrated at the event they saw. It was probably one of the coolest things they must have seen for their age. Once the excitement began to dig down, the children dispersed across the lawn, searching for more heaping globs of snow to construct yet another massive snowball. Justin began to reflect on how even the littlest things in his life were able to toss him into some sort of a positive feedback loop, where they would spiral out of control, giving arise to new ones and exacerbating the old ones. Somehow, it felt as if life was just mocking him right in front of his face, giving shame and embarrassment to the poor buffalo. He was a lone boxer, who squandered his life on obsessing over someone who was dead; it diminished him into a heartless bastard who disregards the world. And any minor inconvenience that he encounters only seems to pull him down. How pathetic, how foolish, how selfish.

Sipping his now lukewarm hot chocolate, Justin approached a moderately busy intersection that lurked on the outskirts of the park. The lack of a canopy of trees obscuring his view of downtown was now obsolete, and the bright, colorful, and complex matrix of the heart of Zootopia was now in plain sight. Justin guesstimated that the closest skyscrapers to him were no more than a mile or so away. One of these megastructures included the recently completed Amazon Tower, a skyscraper which he always admired thanks to its aesthetic beauty, stretched coil architecture, and planar geometry that was the jacket of gigantic, hexagonal glass panes. Although his vision was subpar for many animals in the city, a ring of golden light towards the top of the tower looked to be flush with many tourists and visitors to the iconic observation deck. Finding himself drawn to the last borough of the city he had yet to wander through, Justin crossed the street and began a trek straight for the steel jungle of downtown like some sort of mindless sheep.

About halfway through his journey, he encountered another busy intersection, which was flourished with more Christmas décor than the eye can see. Wreaths, candy canes, and glockenspiels engulfed him while walking towards the intersection. The most prominent feature, however, was the set of loudspeakers that wrapped around the streets of Elbert and Denali, blasting the feed of a radio station's broadcasting of the most celebrated and well-known Christmas songs. As Justin stepped into the intersection and tapped a request to cross the street on the street lamp, he found himself uncommendably tapping his foot to the rhythm of "Jingle Bells", one of his favorite classics which he (roughly) knew how to play on the piano. Finally wrapped in the first episode of warmth since entering the chilly borough, Justin drank the rest of his now cold hot chocolate, tossed the cup with candy cane aside, and closed his eyes to enjoy the carols. Leaning against the lamppost of the intersection, he found himself humming to the end of the tune.

 _A day or two ago  
I thought I'd take a ride  
And soon Miss Fanny Bright  
Was seated by my side_

 _The horse was lean and lank  
Misfortune seemed his lot  
We got into a drifted bank  
And then we got upset_

 _Oh, jingle bells, jingle bells  
Jingle all the way  
Oh, what fun it is to ride  
In a one horse open sleigh_

 _Oh, jingle bells, jingle bells  
Jingle all the way  
Oh, what fun it is to ride  
In a one horse open sleigh_

Justin took a deep breath. As the collage of guitars, drums, voices, and piano slowly casted away, the familiar sound of running engines, horns, and tires replaced the fragile atmosphere around him. This silence lasted for all but a few seconds, and was eventually replaced by a prerecorded voice, acting as a transitioner for what would be another Christmas tune.

 _Merry Christmas, you're listening to 106.3, Zootopia's #1 pop station._

Just as the walking mammal light caught his eye, Justin briefly shuffled his way across the street, curious as to what the radio station was going to segue into. The next number was a very special one; as a matter of fact, it was towards the top of Justin's personal favorite holiday classics. The indistinguishable song floated on a continual arpeggio of colorful A-flat chords that would drive the upcoming chorus. The piece almost took his breath as he walked away from the festive intersection. As a matter of fact, his walking pace briefly slowed down so he could embrace the beauty of the first couple verses.

 _Silent night, holy night_

 _All is calm, all is bright_

 _Round yon Virgin Mother and Child_

 _Holy Infant so tender and mild_

 _Sleep in heavenly peace_

 _Sleep in heavenly peace_

The howling winds and drizzling snow obscured the melodies of his song, but yet Justin continued to press on, closing his way in towards the piercing skyscraper that overlooked the city with its sheer height. As he got further and further away from a brief moment of happiness, the sounds of the carols began to blend with a news cast emitting from an upcoming large TV display at a shop to his left. By the time he was walking in front of the window pane, his focus couldn't help itself but shift towards the rambling of the news cast.

 _"…After a believed overdose on narcotics. He was forty-two years old._

 _"Record populations are booming in BunnyBurrow, a settlement about two hours from Zootopia. The town, which was established about twenty-five years ago, just surpassed the five-million mark in terms of population. The rapid onset of mostly rabbits is growing at an alarming rate, with an estimated growth rate of nearly six percent each year. If these statistics hold steady, the town will have a booming population of eighty-five million rabbits in about fifty years. Mayor Richard Moore has stated that, and I quote: 'Despite the large increase in the rabbit population, there is little need to raise alarm. Negotiations are being made to efficiently manage their space within their city limits to prevent any unwanted spreading.'_

 _"In other news, with the holiday season coming to a close, Zootopia has had a near-record increase in stocks, with Paw Street reporting abnormally large increases with companies such as Polar-Cola, Toys 'Rawr' Us, and Catsio seeing unforeseen wealth in connection to the Holiday season._

 _"The holiday season has also shown an increase in motor accidents, with the ZPD tying many of them with alcohol. The city pleads with their citizens to not drive under the influence, to call a cab if they feel intoxicated, and to report any and all cases of driving under the influence to the ZPD immediately._

 _"That's the eleven o'clock edition of the news. Good night, and have a merry Christmas."_

"What's the admission for tonight?"

"For the observation deck? It's free for tonight! Complements of the tower."

"Oh, great! Thank you."

"Absolutely, sir. Merry Christmas!"

"Thanks, you as well."

Justin hastily replaced his wallet, and joined the queue to the observation deck of the Amazon Tower, which was instantaneously longer by the second, with more citizens and tourists alike piling together like fish in a tuna can to see a priceless view for…no price. Normally, the admission to get a twenty-minute view from the top of the city would cast over thirty-five dollars apiece, which many considered to be outrageous. Thus it should be expected that many mammals were taking advantage with their families to spend the last hours of Christmas with a mesmerizing view. The line to the elevators had already snaked through almost the entire lobby; past several desks, around the gigantic statue that held the tower's interior focal point, and past a terrace, which Justin only knew as Yerupajá, a place that Lionheart told him remembers some of the city's most important figures.

Joining the back of the line, Justin began to grow quite nervous once again. Despite that it would take him probably close to forty-five minutes before he would be squeezed into an elevator, his body continued to grow tense as the line inched forward ever so slowly. During the wait, which dragged on into what felt like hours, Justin felt like he was poisoned. He knew exactly why he felt this way, with an overwhelming sense of dizziness, blurry vision, upset stomach, and shaky arms and legs, all drew connections to a sense of nervousness. Holding his form together during the wait was a battle of his own; whenever the chance arrived, he would sit down on a bench, lean against the wall, or twiddle with his thumbs to burn off the built-up anxiety. Amidst his insanity, the one rational question that ran though his mind during the ordeal was how nobody questioned his weary and ill physical state. Perhaps he was much better than he thought at maintaining his posture; perhaps the steady decrease in visitors, which narrowed down the line behind him, reduced the likelihood of him being spotted in such a deteriorating state.

By the time he was finally escorted to an open elevator at the front of the line, his palms grew sweaty, and his knees began to wobble almost uncontrollably. He was the last mammal to board the elevator, which was already tuna-packed with twenty mammals, including two one-thousand-pound grizzly bears. Despite a rather long and frustrating list of fears that Justin had, which included spiders, public speaking, and even the future, claustrophobia has never rendered him panicked. But yet something about this evening seemed to trigger an alarm within his system. Just as the doors to the elevators began to close, Justin chucked himself out of the lift, with a case of trembling hands and turbulent breathing. He laid on the ground, with a crowd watching him, trying to recover his breath. Shortly after hurling himself out, the doors closed behind him.

"Are you okay, sir?" asked a moose dressed in the tower's attire.

It took a second before Justin could recollect a sense of thought. "Y-yeah, I'm okay. Just a small panic attack is all."

The moose reached over to a decorative table between two of the three elevators which held small complimentary bottles of water. Grabbing the first one his arm could reach, the moose tenderly gave it to Justin.

"Do you still want to head up to the observation deck?"

Cracking open the cap to the water, Justin took a long and much-needed sip. "Yeah. I…I can take the next one up. I won't freak out this time, I promise."

"Alright, just wait up front with these folks and we'll get you up there. Take all the time you need, sir."

"Thanks."

After allowing his body to recover for a minute, Justin stood back up and waited to the side for the next elevator to take him to the top of Zootopia. Drinking the rest of the small, eight-ounce water bottle, he began to fiddle with the cap, for his nerves had not calmed down; as a matter of fact, Justin could've sworn that they were firing even faster. It began to feel like his poker face was finally beginning to dissolve, and the face of a mammal plunging into the depths of insanity was beginning to show itself. Nobody gave him peculiar looks, but an overanalyzing mind reassured Justin that he was being stared down at by everyone in the building. His heart rate once again skyrocketed, as the aftershock of a panic attack set in. While battling his nerves, another elevator arrived, unloading a batch of passengers and ready to board some new ones.

"Sir, the next elevator is ready. Would you like to join us?" asked the moose, who was now standing right next to him.

"Uh…I…I think I'll wait for the next one. Sorry, my nerves are acting up again."

The moose chuckled. "No worries, sir. Take all the time you need." He then proceeded to walk over to the doors of the elevator and began assisting in the boarding of more passengers. Just as he finished the task, Justin reached over and grabbed another water bottle, drinking almost the entire thing within thirty seconds.

"Boy, somebody's thirsty!" joked the moose as he walked on back.

"Just a little…" replied Justin in a dry and awkward chuckle.

For the next thirty minutes, Justin was thrown into a cycle where his mentally prepared mind and body would suddenly crumble upon an attempt to board one of the elevators. Despite any courage that he thought he had, his mind would simply refuse him the privilege to board the elevator. He didn't have a fear of heights nor claustrophobia, so what was its reasoning? Each time he asked this question to himself, another bottle of water would go down his throat, as his thirst simply never became quenched. Through the obscurity of his own mind, Justin gazed mindlessly into the traffic of animals that would come and go; many were in ugly Christmas sweaters, while others embraced their Santa Paws hats. Almost all of them were laughing, talking, or celebrating the festive holiday. They all looked the same to Justin. Just a whole bunch of animals that knew what it was like to be happy and normal.

"Excuse me, sir?"

Lost in some sort of trance, Justin disregarded the moose's comment completely.

"Uh…Sir? Are you okay?"

"W-what? Oh…Yes. I'm okay. Still just a bit nervous."

"I understand, but if you want to see the tower, this is the last elevator going up for the night. Would you like to see the observation deck?"

Justin glanced over at the near empty elevator; only a married pair of goats were standing inside the open space. Taking a deep breath, he resolved any fears that built up in front of him. What was there to worry about? It was just a visit to the top of the tower.

 _Right?_

"Alright, I'll head on up."

Throwing some caution into the wind, Justin stepped inside the spacious and luxurious elevator, whose interior was coated with incredible works of golden hand-sewn cloth. The suite was also refurbished with bouts of marble, smoky ebony wood, and burgundy drapes, all suitable enough for an Arabic king. Sewed into some of the golden cloth that wrapped around the elevator was the symbols which symbolized the union and labor the city. Flags of each of the boroughs, silhouettes of the city skyline, and the city's emblem were all featured in the display. Accompanying its beauty were a couple of loud speakers that were singing some jazzy and bluesy Christmas numbers.

The moose poked his head inside, swiped an ID card above a Christmas Tree worth of buttons, and entered the top one, which was simply titled "OBS". As quickly as the elevator doors closed, the three passengers inside of it quickly cascaded up the gigantic tower which overlooked the city. As the lift picked up speed on its journey up, a rapid onset of constant beeps filled the stiff cabin as the cubicle whisked by dozens of floors every few seconds.

 _Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…_

Like most elevator rides for Justin, having any additional passengers accompanying him on the journey up was a test of his nerves. Being suspended in only the sounds of the rising elevator and the harmonic beat of the its tones, with no other conversation whatsoever, would always made him grow quite nervous. The only thing he could do to keep himself from going insane on these rides up was to simply look straight at the gold-platted elevator doors right in front of him, which in turn gave a mutated reflection of his stature. On this particular night, while staring past the dozens of scratches and opaque claw marks that have weathered the door for many years, Justin could do nothing but see shame within his physique. The deformity brought him expanses of shame as harsh self-criticism of his body took over what should be his confident posture.

The frequency of the tones that was the dominant sound in the elevator finally began to diminish as the elevator reached the top of the Amazon Tower. Justin's ears popped due to the change in pressure; he exercised his jaw a little bit to ensure that his ears were cleared up and he could hear clearly. Once an abrupt shake stopped the elevator for good, its doors opened up to an open floor that was reserved specifically for a gift shop and the observation deck. Right before his eyes beheld a winter wonderland: Christmas trees, toys, and even a dress-up of Santa Paws were all greeting late night children that fluttered throughout the shop. At the cashier's desk, complementary cups of hot chocolate and hot cider were being distributed like there was no tomorrow, and the accompanying scents drizzled their way throughout the entire shop and likely leached out onto the observation deck. As Justin stepped out into the lobby of the observation deck's gift shop, he nearly became trapped and lost in a maze of bookshelves which held souvenirs and Christmas merchandise relating to the Amazon Tower. Before stepping out into the open and catching a view of the shop as a whole, a small mechanical train snaked by his feet, with the track it followed slithering throughout the perimeter of the floor.

There were still quite a few mammals at the top of the tower despite the late hours and the halt of rides to the top; as a matter of fact, Justin guessed that there was upwards of perhaps fifty to seventy mammals still enjoying the accommodations of the tower. He explored the inside of the shop for a while, which gave his mind time to wander. His own feet wandered with it, as he trolleyed throughout the store with no set direction or purpose. Past an ornamented Christmas tree, through aisles stockedpiled with souvenir beer glasses, and underneath ribbons of seasonal lights that were scattered about the room. His mindless journey came to a pause when he found himself in front of the doors of the observation deck. Behind the imprinted text and a half-inch of glass was the top of the city. Once again, Justin's pulse and heartrate steady increased. But almost as if he didn't have any control over his body, he pushed open the doors and stepped outside onto the observation desk. The crisp, fresh, and clean air that swirled around the top of the tower was incredibly refreshing for Justin, who was previously exposed to several hours of musky, dirty, and putrid city air.

The observation deck itself was nothing too out of the ordinary; a cutout of half of the edge of the tower reserved about a donut-shaped terrace of two-hundred square feet. Granite tile defined the entirety of the observation deck, which was used for walking space where observers could roam, spectate, and admire the architecture of the skyscraper and the views that it delivered. However, the entire perimeter of the deck was wrapped in a chain-linked fence that stretched to ten feet high, which did obscure some aspects of viewing depth and details of the city. It was a minor inconvinience, one that was neglected by most of the visitors that soaked in the scenery of the city and the surrounding landscape.

For about fifteen minutes, Justin again wandered aimlessly throughout the realm of the tower, without any clue as to where his body was taking him. While walking along the edge of the chain-linked fence, he would occasionally read the trivia and facts that were posted throughout the observation deck.

 _Reach for the Sky!_

 _Completed in nineteen sixty-two, the Amazon Tower was the first great feat of engineering for the city of Zootopia. Inspired by an architectural sketch from a Zootopia School of Mines graduate student, the swirling design of the building gives it incredible strength and therefore the ability to be built to unforeseen heights. Currently the tallest skyscraper in the world, the Amazon Tower is proud to be the crowning achievement of modern architecture._

 _Look Out Below!_

 _The tower was capped out at approximately one thousand, five-hundred feet, with one hundred and twenty stories filling the space in between. The observation deck you're standing on is around one thousand, four-hundred and twenty feet tall. If you were to drop a penny from up here (which is strictly prohibited), then it would take just over nine seconds for it to strike the ground! The sheer height of the Amazon Tower has allowed many adventurous animals to BASE jump from the observation deck and land on the ground safely after deploying a parachute._

 _The Top of the Amazon Basin_

 _Sitting at the bottom of the Amazon Tower is a very special terrace known as Yerupaj_ _á_ _. Flushed within its boundaries are several acacia trees, stalks of barley grass, and several small ponds. But what makes Yerupaj_ _á_ _a special place is that is the burial site of some of the most important and influential mammals that have worked within the heart of Zootopia. The burial sites of the city's first mayor, its first police chief, and many high-ranking military officials are all contained within this powerful terrace. Because of its position relative to the observation deck, many BASE jumpers target the terrace as their landing spot._

Justin gazed out into the black void that separates the milky stars above him and the horizon of the city, lost for words and speech. His thoughts laid millions of miles away, back at his home which he infested with grief and anguish. He should be feeling the raw emotions that a true mammal should: guilt, shame, and embarrassment. But yet he didn't feel any of it; any reserves of emotion seemed to be completely drained. The sensation that was left – a comfortable, heavy, and bitter sense of numbness – was the only emotion that he knew how to feel. It was something that he just couldn't live to experience any longer.

A frosty gust of wind wrapped around the tower, vibrating several scraps of loose steel along with the steel chain. Justin observed his surroundings; families, lovers, and staff members were all focused and isolated in their own individual worlds. They were independent of their surroundings. Once Justin found a gap, a miscible slot of time in which he felt like nobody was paying attention to him, he made a leap onto the chain fence and grabbed a hold of it. The shaking of the linkages startled many visitors, who now focused their attention on the buffalo that was climbing the fence. Despite the dismay of many staff workers and a few bystanders, Justin climbed onto the top of the fence and slowly started a decent down the other side. Once he was level with the balcony on the other side of the fence, Justin sat down on the ledge and looked out into the vastness of the city that he was observing earlier.

Chaos erupted on the observation tower. Staff workers scrambled to shuttle everybody inside the lobby, including several bystanders who pleaded with Justin to not do the unthinkable. As he continued to sit on the ledge, gazing down at his swinging feet that were nine seconds from surely instant death, the once packed observation deck was now void of all mammal life excluding two staff members.

Going through vigorous and repeated training for something unlikely was now integral in saving Justin's life. The two staff workers, a koala bear and a tiger, were best friends since orientation day at the tower. Part of their training to work as staff members on the observation deck was to do three things and three things only if a mammal climbed the fence in a suicide attempt. One was to evacuate the crowd into the lobby and hold them there until further notice, another was to comfort the mammal and talk their way out of jumping, and the last one was to call authorities as soon as possible.

"…And that's when I said to myself, ' _Man, I'll never run for mayor of this city!'_ "

"But why not? You seem to have the leadership, sir."

"Eeh, too much work. I'm already a burnt out lion by just keeping this station in one piece. Climbing the ladder just seems like too much, you know?"

"Understandable. So how was your Christmas, sir?"

"It was good, it was good. I was able to play with my kits, carve Christmas roast, and head to a party before reporting for duty. No alcohol, of course."

"That's good! And now you're stuck with me for the rest of the night on patrol duty. Poor you!"

"Har-har, Collins. Focus on the driving, would you?"

"Yes si-"

" _Attention all units, we have an ongoing 10-56A at the observation deck of the Amazon Tower. Immediate assistance requested,_ " interrupted a screaming police scanner.

Collins questioned himself, "10-56A…What is that, a suicide?"

"Jesus Christ, an attempted suicide. And we're just a few minutes away. You know how to get to the tower, right?"

"On my way, sir. Should we flare on the sirens?"

"On it," mumbled Leodore while getting onto the radio, "Chief Lionheart to dispatch, we are just a few minutes away and will go to check it out."

The sirens of the squad car screamed through the peace and happiness of the city as they floated towards the Amazon Tower.

"Let's hope it's not another jumper…" rattled Lionheart.

"What's your name, son?"

"M-my name?"

"Yes, my friend. Please tell me your name."

"Justin. Justin Bogo."

"Justin, that's a cool name. What's happening right now? Talk to me," pleaded the tiger.

"I…I just can't go on anymore…"

The tiger was instructed to never touch the victim on the other side of the fence; only talk. Talk until the authorities would arrive to assist. Until that happens, he would just have to wait and talk.

"Why is that?"

"Somewhere…Out in the realms of Savanna Central…Rests a family that probably hates my guts by now. I've torn my family apart, all because I lack the strength to carry my own weight."

"But you can't jump, Justin. There are still mammals out there that care about you."

"I doubt it…My one true love is dead, my family wants to kill me, and I'm just some worthless loner. There's nobo-"

Justin's train of thought was cut off upon the sound of a very familiar voice emerging from the background. One that he has known for such a long time that it stuck out like a sore thumb.

"Where is he?" asked Leodore to the koala standing guard by the door.

"Chief Lionheart?"

"Justin?! Oh God, this can't be true…"

Tears swelled the lens of Justin's eyes upon seeing perhaps his last true friend up to this point.

"Justin, what are you doing? You can't be here," burst out Leodore as he jogged over next to Justin.

"Chief…I…I've done some bad things. I just can't live with them anymore."

"That doesn't matter at this point. You wouldn't know how grief-stricken I'd be if you jumped off this ledge."

Justin didn't say anything.

"Are you still with me, buddy?"

Again without a response, Justin began inching towards the edge of his seat.

"C'mon, don't you dare think like that. I beg you, please stay with me, buddy. Look at me."

Justin ignored Leodore's plead and continued to look straight out. "I can't do this, Chief. I simply can't."

Justin's momentum began to vaguely increase as his body started to drift off the edge of the building.

"Justin, NO!" screamed Lionheart. By reflex, he managed to squeeze several fingers between the chain links and grasp Justin's jacket just in the nick of time. Using all of the strength he could, Leodore pulled the buffalo back onto the ledge, and did not let go.

"J-Justin…Think of your brother. Think of your mother, your father. Think of _me_. We would do anything to keep you alive and happy. All we have to do is put you through some recovery and then you'll be back to normal."

Another frosty gust of wind penetrated the observation deck of the tower, rattling the chain-linked fence that separated Justin from what would be instantaneous death. Out of fear, he suddenly grasped the links and held on for dear life.

"Please," choked Lionheart, "I can't afford to lose another great friend. You mean the world to me every time you see me. Whether it's when you visit my office and play cards with me, or when you help me out with my job, having your presence is a true blessing. You can't just leave us. I can't lose another family member…"

Through the fish-eyed lens of Lionheart's tear-stained eyes, Justin saw his entire life flash before his eyes. The glory days of living with his one true love, the success he achieved in school, the bondages made by joining the ZPD…He couldn't just do it all for nothing.

"If…If I show you my dark side, my weak side…Will you fix me?"

"Oh goodness, of course I would, Justin. Whatever is broken can be fixed and replenished. Marie…She may be gone, but that doesn't mean that we can have you recovered. I know you love her Justin, but she will have to wait a little longer."

"Do you promise that I will get better, Leo?"

"That's a promise I will hold with me until the day I die. So what do you say, buddy? Let's start over."

Justin thought over the chief's offer to start over. Putting his past behind him would most certainly be an integral step to his recovery; he would be himself again. His mother, father, and brother would welcome him back into the family with open arms. His talents would continue to flourish, and his contagious realm of kindness would continue to spread throughout the world.

"Let's…Let's start over," Justin agreed eventually.

"That's my boy. Now what do you say we go get some hot cider back at my place? Get you a place to stay and something to eat?"

"Alright, that sounds nice."

"Okay. Let's get you on the other side of this fence, yeah?"

Justin chuckled a bit. "Yeah, that would help." Ever so carefully, he began to grasp the fence as Lionheart let go. Yet another brisk gust of wind engulfed the tower in a brittle and biting cold.

"Alright, nice and carefully. Watch your footing, we don't want you to sl-"

Before Lionheart could finish the rest of his sentence, Justin's left foot slipped on a small puddle of frozen ice. The sudden jerk of motion threw his body off course, and before he could even react to the mistake, Justin cascaded over the edge of the tower and started the nine-second plunge to the ground.

"JUSTIN! NO!" cried Lionheart. Unlike the first time his body nearly went over the edge, he could not grasp the buffalo's jacket in time.

Disorientation entangled and twined Justin as he spiraled toward the ground in mass panic and confusion. He knew he had nine seconds to live, but the dream of an ideal life gone to turmoil replayed through his head for what must have felt like hours. Once he knew the end had arrived, only one terrifying and desperate scream was able to penetrate his vocal cords.

"HELP! HELP ME!"

Lionheart collapsed to the ground, spilling tears from the face of an anguished mammal. The scream that he just heard dissolved the joy, hope, and happiness that he previously held. The only thing he could hope for now was that the muffled sounds of his sobs would mask the sound of a body hitting the ground. For he knew that heaven was to gain an angel that evening.

 _Night after night  
Going 'round and 'round my brain  
His dream is driving me insane.  
In the corner of some foreign field  
The jumper sleeps tonight.  
What's done is done.  
We cannot just write off his final scene.  
Take heed of his dream  
Sleep in heavenly peace. _


	14. Breaching the Water Tank

' _Alright, Judy. You can do this. He's just a harsh buffalo. More bark than bite. Sooner or later, we'll get to the bottom of this, just like Nick promised, and everything is going to be alright. Just keep your head high, your responses sharp, and your work top-notch. But whatever you do, do not coax into his bullshit and his lies. It's simple! All you have to do is survive a few days of this nonsense, and we'll get him out of here, and life will be good again. Now, on a count of three, you're going to walk in there and have another great day._

 _'One…Two..Th-'_

"HOPPS!" snarled an angry buffalo approaching Judy from behind.

Acting on her own instinct, Judy turned around, stiffened up, and greeted Bogo with a swift salute.

"S-sir!"

"At ease, officer. I'm not a fucking drill sergeant. What, do I look like a five-star general to you?"

"N…No, s-sir."

"I didn't think so either. What the hell are you doing just standing there? The door isn't going to open itself. Now open it up and get seated for roll call. We're already falling behind this morning. There's no time for slacking around, Hopps."

"Sir, yes sir!"

The brief rant that Bogo gave was relatively uncharacteristic of his personality. Even though it easily could have had its roots in the standoff yesterday, Judy felt comfortable conjecturing that maybe it was just the chief was having a bad morning. Maybe the coffee brewer in the break room broke down again, or he didn't get enough sleep last night, or perhaps he just had one whiskey-soda too many? Nevertheless, the orders that he barked didn't let Judy cave in. Without hesitating, she took a gigantic leap, grasped the steel handle, and pulled it down, casting the door slightly ajar. She squeezed her miniature body through the entryway and hustled herself past the officers ten times her size (and weight) towards the chair that she sat in every day for roll call. Leaping onto stale cushion, engineered for animals with much more meat, Judy stood on her toes as she did every day while waiting for Bogo to walk in through the door on her left. The one thing that made this morning much more peculiar was the absence of Nick, who was finishing up minor treatments of physical therapy at the hospital ten minutes away. She had to constantly remind herself that he had her keys; otherwise, at least twenty mini-heart attacks would attack her throughout the day when she would feel nothing in her pockets.

"ATTEN-HUT!" cried a firm and statured Higgins at the front of the room.

Like they would do every morning, each animal in the room began discharging a broad spectrum of roars, growls, and howls as the silhouette of Bogo shuttled into the room. But the momentum was not carried for very long, as an unnerving sense of fear continued to swallow the room with every passing second. By the time the chief reached the pedestal, the aroused sense of energy in the room completely diminished into a thick and heavy silence. Judy's knuckles turned white at the sight of him.

"Is there a problem?" asked the buffalo as he glanced around the room. His remark did little to lift the lingering quiet that firmly grasped the officers.

"Is…There…A…Problem…?" repeated Bogo, this time with much more bite and rasp to his voice. A sea of mumbled and disembodied disagreements floated around for a few seconds.

"Good. I've got just three items on the docket this morning. First! You all should have received a very important email that I sent out last night regarding the recent events that have occurred here at the station. Is there anyone who did not receive the said email?"

Glancing around the room, the air was devoid of any spoken answers or raised paws. Bogo held the silence for about ten seconds, hoping to ensure that nobody would break the peace. His wish, however, was unfulfilled when a soft, furry paw at the front of the room floated shyly and indistinctly.

"You didn't get it, Hopps?"

"Uh…No, sir."

"Come and see me after roll call. Understood?"

"Yes sir."

"Alright, moving on. Secondly, as you all know, the email briefly mentioned towards the end about an important announcement I would discuss with you today. So, I would like to make clear that one of our policies has been rewritten and modified and is in effect as of twelve o'clock this morning. To recap Policy 431-C for those of you who have not studied your reading in a while, you agree to prohibit the discussion of the workplace environment outside of the station. Now for some of you, this shouldn't be much of an issue. As for others," he stressed while making eye contact with Judy, "It would best that you keep your mouths shut."

Bogo slid his reading glasses on and began reciting from the docket like it was a drilling manual.

"Now, reciting the remodeled version of the policy in detail, content that should not be disclosed outside of the station unless otherwise told to do so by administration includes but is not limited to: criminal records, restricted evidence, interrogation tapes, missing mammal reports, criminal or employee rumors, and/or anything which is deemed by administration to be classified as information which can be ruled as discriminating, harmful, threatening, classified, or unprofessional. Now, I would like to stress employee rumors, as several misleading and…Rather _disgusting_ rumors have been floating around the Precinct in these last few days about some of our employees. Rumors about assaults, rumors about blackmail, rumors about corruption, even rumors about me assaulting one of our own officers…All of which are completely unacceptable! Now I would like to make this clear that if anyone continues to spread this rubbish, then they will _have a bad time_. Is that understood?"

Another uncomfortable session of awkward silence.

"GOD DAMN IT, IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?!"

"S-sir, yes sir!" chanted the crowd of officers.

"Alright. Clearly we need to work on administrative etiquette, but we will save that for another day. Third! As you all know, one of our officers is currently on a medical leave after an unfortunate injury a few days ago. Thankfully, Officer Wilde is making steady recovery and is expected to be released from the hospital sometime this morning. This medical leave will last as long as necessary, but in the meantime, I have proposed that we plan a surprise for his return. Officer Wilde, our first fox, is one of the station's hardest workers and it only seems fair that he gets a warm welcome back. Anything from a party, to a game night, or perhaps a night out on the town are all possible suggestions. If you want to propose something we can do for his return, please come see me in my office. Assignments for the day!

"Officers Higgins, Wolford, McHorn, you are all on Sahara patrol. Francine, Delgado, and Rhinovitch, report to Clawhauser for a robbery case in the Nocturnal District. Officer Hopps…Parking duty."

"What?!" cried Judy.

"Dismissed."

While the officers in the room scrambled to group up with each other, preparing to start the days' worth of work, Judy's feet remained glued to her chair, awestruck with disbelief at hearing the two most dreaded words at the ZPD: _Parking Duty_. The last time she was assigned such a gruesome task was her second day as a police officer. The very same day that she was assigned to the case of a missing otter that would drive her towards the success she was embracing the past twelve months.

"Let's go, Hopps. I don't have all day, and you have tickets to write," mumbled Bogo once the rest of the officers left the room.

"S-sir, why am I on parking duty? You know I am much more than a meter maid."

"Well, somebody has to do it. And with your partner on medical leave, you're really the only available officer that can slap tickets on parked cars. Now, about your emai-"

"But sir! Why don't you get some of the newer officers to do it? Or maybe someone else who isn't busy?"

"Shut your mouth, Hopps, and do not cut me off again. If you really want to know the truth, let's say that this is a _consequence_ of our argument yesterday. I've assigned you to parking duty until Wilde is back on duty, and that's not going to change. If you want to continue this argument, then I can always _keep_ you a meter maid for…Let's start with two months. Is that understood?"

"But-… Yes, sir. I understand."

"Splendid. Now, regarding the whole issue with the email, I intentionally didn't send both you and Wilde one as the issue doesn't concern you."

"Doesn't concern us?! How so?" exclaimed Judy as she slammed her fists on the table.

"The message just addressed information regarding the whole incident with Wilde. Nothing too special."

"What did it say? It better not be ab-"

"It's none of your business to worry about, Hopps. Like I told you, it addresses information about the accident that occurred, okay? Now get your clown vest on and start writing tickets! I want another two hundred by noon," growled Bogo as he walked out of the room.

"Accident?! Wait, what? Chief Bogo! Sir, please listen to me!"

Bogo ignored Judy's plead, waltzed out of the room without saying a word, and closed the door behind him. Judy took a deep breath as her ears drooped downwards. Eventually, she convinced herself to get a move on, hoping to avoid another grouchy lecture from the chief. Judy hopped down from her seat and walked towards the door Bogo just went through. However, something stopped her in her tracks completely, just a few feet shy of the door.

Judy has walked out of that office probably three hundred times without batting an eye. It allowed her to develop a tolerance to the surroundings; any minor change would be noticeable to her, which it was in this case. The carpet below her seemed to develop some sort of stain while she was gone. A faded brown stain, about the area of a standard tire, was married into the ground below her. Judy kneeled down and investigated the atypical mark. Drifting her paw across the carpet, it looked as if somebody was vigorously trying to clean this stain out; some of the color looked bleached and discolored, while several threads of the fabric itself were either missing or strewn upwards, creating what looked like a small and isolated forest of threads. The brown stain itself could have been anything; a year in the ZPD exposed Judy to many mysterious tinges, including coffee, paint, vomit, and blood. Taking a step out of square one with this seemed next to impossible without more information. However, her mind felt compelled to draw a simple conclusion, one that she wished she never thought of.

 _'Could it be blood?'_ she asked herself. Although Judy tried to reason herself out of such a nippy and abrupt conclusion, twenty-five years under the care of helicopter parents drew an abruptly blank conclusion that this may very well be the spot in which her partner brushed against the canvas of death. ' _No…It couldn't be…_ ' The blind yet troubling lead quickly consumed Judy as she got up and made her way out to the locker room of the station. Now she was much more determined to uncover this seemingly classified information enclosed within a mysterious email that she was never supposed to see.

Navigating her way throughout the station that morning with a drowning sense of unhappiness and hopelessness, a pair of emotions that she experienced none other than her first two days of being a police officer, turned an otherwise daily activity into something futile and bitter. As she strolled past offices, corridors, and other cops, this ordinary work day felt much more like her third day on the job instead of her third trimester; a time where she felt like a weakling that was being misjudged by everyone in the station. A bunny that doesn't have potential, talent, or the strength to carry the weight of a police officer.

Once she paused herself at the doorway to the women's locker room, Judy recalled the first of many rants Bogo gave her after capturing Duke Weaselton on her second day.

' _Do you think the mayor asked what I wanted when he assigned you to me? Life isn't some cartoon musical where you sing a little song, and your insipid little dreams magically come true! So let. It. Go.'_

"Don't stare at the door too hard Jude, or you'll hurt yourself!"

The voice penetrated Judy's ears, sending a sharp voltage up her spine in surprise. Turning around, she spotted Officer Fangmeyer, wearing shorts and a ZPD T-shirt, walking up right behind her. Judy almost didn't recognize her.

"Oh…Hey Fangmeyer. Sorry, I didn't expect you."

"It happens, girl. You doing okay?" she asked bashfully.

"I don't know…The chief has been a bit hard on me these past couple of days. Just assigned me parking duty for as long as Nick is out sick."

"Rough stuff. Wanna talk about it while we get changed?"

Judy felt hesitant to do so; although she knew Fangmeyer since her first day on the force, the two have never really formed a bond with each other. She was more of an acquaintance that she occasionally ran into during strolls around the station, with an occasional "Hey" or "Hi there!" being exchanged. Frankly, Judy was surprised that Fangmeyer even remembered her name.

"Uh…Sure. Why not?" she reluctantly agreed. Perhaps this was a good thing; her father always told her that making new friends was the best way to feel better.

"Cool beans."

The two strolled into the relatively empty locker room. Judy seldom used it, often proclaiming to Nick that seeing other naked animals, even in such a brief setting, would make her want to claw her own eyes out. Indeed, the first two times that she set foot in such a sinful place was to put on the clown vest sitting in her assigned locker, which was only used for parking duty. The third and last time she was in there was about six months ago, when its restroom was the last resort after waking up that morning with a nasty case of the stomach flu. Almost the entire day was spent camping out next to one of the toilets, coated in a thick layer of foreign pathogens, that likely just made her more sick. The memories associated with the locker room were anything but pleasant for Judy.

"So you're on parking duty until Nick gets back? How long is that gonna be?"

"Hard to say…He's getting out of the hospital today, but the doctors have him out for six to eight weeks. It could be longer depending on how quickly he can start to walk again. He's wheelchair bound, right now. I mean, it just breaks my heart to see him like that!"

Fangmeyer swiveled the dial on her lock, keying in the code which would bring access to her uniform. "Yikes. What did the doctors officially diagnose him with?"

"Like some sort of skull fracture and hemorrhagic mumbo-jumbo stuff. I'm not a doctor, I have no clue what they were talking about to be honest with you."

"Well if the name's a tongue-twister, then I imagine the bills won't be too pretty."

"You can say that again. We-"

"I imagine the bills won't be too pretty," repeated Fangmeyer with a disgusting grin embedded across her face. She opened her locker and took out the neatly folded slacks and blouse.

"Oh, stop it, you! But Nick and I have been worried about the expenses. The bills are in the upper four digits already, almost towards five! He doesn't have any insurance, and Bogo offered to pay eighty percent of the treatment. And with most of Nick's income set on his bills, I had no other choice but to bring him in to my place so he doesn't get evicted. It's a crazy mess!"

"Aww! Our cute bunny is keeping a boy at his house!"

"Don't call me cute! Grr, you know that's a pet-peeve! And it's only a temporary thing. It's nothing too special."

Judy focused her attention on recalling what her locker combination was. She purchased a lock at the corner store with a preassigned code embedded with it; digging through her memory archive took a little energy out of her.

"Judy 'n' Nick, sitting in a tree…"

"Oh, stop it. Now you're jumping to conclusions. I can't think of my combo with your pathetic singing going on in the background."

The first digit, fifteen, suddenly raced through her head, and she twisted the dial to that number before she forgot it. Trying to recall the second number was a little more difficult; dry humor coming from the tiger behind her prevented her cogs from turning properly.

" _K-I-S-S-I-N-G…_ " she faintly heard.

 _Three!_ Abruptly twisting the knob counterclockwise and back around to three, she desperately tried to remember what the third and final digit was.

"Fangmeyer, I wi-"

"No, please, call me Kayla."

"Ugh, fine. _Kayla_ , I will smack you upside your head if you keep on teasing me like that. I got to get out there soon, Bogo wants three hundred tickets before noon."

Despite Judy's plead, Fangmeyer didn't let up on the mild taunting.

" _First come love, then comes marriage…"_

"Kayla, come on. You know I hate that kind of stuff. Can you save the love and sex jokes for another day?!"

" _Then comes the baby sitting in the baby carriage!"_

As quickly as the second number arrived, Judy suddenly recalled the final digit, six, and inched the dial a little bit to the right, unlocking her locker for the first time in just over a year. Opening the time capsule, a few dust bunnies laid crouched in the corner.

"Speak of the devil! You've got children, Jude!" joked Kayla as she slugged Judy in the arm.

"Har-har. Don't you have to get changed too?"

"Yeah, I know. I just wanted to cheer you up a little bit, since I know you've been going through a lot this week."

"Thanks, Kayla. You may be annoying, but that means a lot."

"No problem. If your boyfriend isn't around, I sure as heck will be."

"Pssh, he's not my boyfriend…"

"…Yet!"

Hoping to get ahold of sweet revenge, Judy formulated a spontaneous plan on the spot to get Fangmeyer back.

"So…You want to meet my children?"

"Wait, what?!"

Judy reached into the locker and pulled out a handful of the dusty particles and swiftly slid them inside of Kayla's cap that sitting right in front of her on the bench.

"You little dirt bag…" mumbled Kayla as she shook the cap free of dust bunnies. Judy giggled at the pleasure of driving the hazing towards equilibrium.

"You win this time, Hopps, but be warned! I'm a tiger. And just like they say, we tigers are sneaky, nimble, and quick! You'll never see me coming!"

"Oh boy, I'm _so_ scared," Judy growled sarcastically as she shook the dust off the bright orange vest and slipped it on over her shoulders.

"So, you didn't get the email that Bogo sent out?"

"Nuh-uh. He told me afterwards that it was _information that I didn't need to know about_."

"Huh…"

"Now…Just out of curiosity, what did it say? I feel suspicious about it and I don't know why!"

Kayla contemplated Judy's comment, unsure of how to approach her with the right answer.

"Well…It just discussed the details about what happened a few days ago with Wilde. Nothing too special."

"Then why does he not want Nick and I to see it?"

"No clue…The only thing I can suggest is that he mentioned that we don't talk about it around you guys. Just a guess though."

"Wait, wait, wait… _Don't talk about it around us_? What?!"

"Yeah, he mentioned how there were things you weren't supposed to know…Technically, I should be keeping my mouth shut."

"Are you serious?! He's hiding something from us?!"

"Hey, I wasn't there the day he got hurt, so I have no clue on what he could be hiding…Maybe if you give the chief a little time, he'll warm up to you. It's worked for me in the past."

"I can't believe it; he hates me! He hates my guts!"

Kayla grinned at Judy. "C'mon, Jude! You know that he treats the newcomers like that! At least for the first year. I imagine it will all clear up soon."

"I don't know, Fangmeyer…This feels different somehow."

"You know the saying that time heals all wounds?"

"Yeah, I think so…"

"I think this is one of those situations. My best bet, coming from a gal who has gone through a lot of relationship issues, would be that you just give it some time, and things will clear up!"

"Are you sure?"

"Positive! Would I ever let you down, Jude?"

"Good point…"

"Alright, well we both need to get a move on or even more parking duty will await not just you, but me!"

"No kidding," mumbled Judy as she closed and locked up her cubicle. "I guess I'll see you around?"

"Sounds good, girl. Now go out there and make the world a better place!"

"One ticket at a time."

The two exchanged a fist bump before Judy finally waltzed out of the locker room, feeling much more content and confident thanks to the boost from Fangmeyer. Perhaps the day wasn't going to be so bad after all.

Or perhaps it would be.

Fangmeyer's optimism from earlier became nothing but a distant memory for Judy. Having to once again wear the clown vest that designated her as a meter maid brought back three painful memories of ticketing cars: angry pedestrians, long, brutal hours, and a stereotype that she wasn't a real cop. Placing ticket upon ticket on cars felt much more brutal than it should have been; it only reminded Judy of why she should be doing anything but this. Anything but this.

The clock struck noon a lot sooner than she anticipated it; by the time Judy heard the church bells on Paw street singing their midday harmonies, she had only ticketed one hundred and sixty-five unlucky cars. Not necessarily a bad quota, but nevertheless, it was only halfway towards what Bogo wanted her to do. The stress of trying to meet the vicious demands of the chief while battling a case of working depression cut deep into her motivation. Each ticket she had to print seemed to continuously suck another ounce of energy from her system.

By the time one o'clock in the afternoon finally crept along, Judy only managed to work out an additional thirty-two tickets. Five of these tickets were accompanied with angry Zootopians handing Judy harsh and demanding lectures; ones which drove her to the brink of insanity. Just like the second day on the force.

"Hey, hey! Rabbit! What the hell do you think you're doing?!" shouted an angry Zebra after seeing her car being ticketed.

"Afternoon ma'am," groaned Judy as she finished typing up the ticket, "I am ticketing you for an expired meter. The limit is four hours."

"Son of a bitch…I was what, a minute over? Goddamn it, you stupid rabbit! Will an extra minute kill you? Do you _really_ need this violation to pay for your salary?"

"Ma'am, if you have a grievance, you may contest your citation in traffic court."

"You're lucky that I just got out of anger management, you filthy whore! You don't want to see me when I'm really boiled up!"

"I don't," mumbled Judy while she started up her car, "Now if you excuse me, I have to get back to work. Have a great rest of your day."

She became so overwhelmed with frustration and exhaustion that being bored to tears seemed quite plausible on a day such as this. There was _nothing_ exciting about writing tickets; as a matter of fact, Judy felt compelled enough to avoid a few expired meters in an attempt of getting out of doing more work at the cost of a lower ticket yield. Plus, one less ticket written may be one less angry pedestrian to be chewed out on.

Two o'clock managed to arrive even more slowly; being deprived of energy and willingness to continue the job made writing tickets much more difficult. Her pace of work diminished quite rapidly, and within the past sixty minutes, only twelve unlucky parking violators managed to receive the dreaded orange slip. For this lap around the clock, Judy began targeting drivers in Outback Island, a small borough shadowed underneath the vastness of Savanna Central. There was she able to reexplore cascading sand dunes, koalas, an army of palm trees guarding its perimeter. A gigantic, orange-red sandstone rock smothered with occasional streaks of white paint, which the locals knew simply as Ulburu, acted as a centerpiece to the unique island. Judy seldom visited the island; as a matter of fact, only twice before has she set foot on it, once when she was ticketing cars as a meter maid last year, and another time to assist in a robbery investigation about three months ago, which turned out to be an open-and-shut case. Consequently, Judy was quite unfamiliar with the area, and managed to only cite a few cars before resorting back to the mainland. Mammals drive on the right in this alienlike place, which made navigating traffic a nightmare anyway. She'd be better off driving in a place where she abided the rules of the road in a second-nature fashion.

Three o'clock came and went by without much notice; like a watched pot that would never boil, Judy never stopped examining the clock after each ticket that she wrote down. Yet each time she glanced at it, the seconds just got slower and slower, as if time itself was simply mocking her inability to work. Snaking down corridors and sliding through alleyways of TundraTown seemed to be her last resort in avoiding the scan for any flagged parking meters. Looking at one, knowing that she would need to ticket a car at victim, would mean another session of punching in codes to a printer, carefully sliding an enveloped ticket underneath wipers that otherwise kissed their windshields, and occasionally, an unhappy customer. Although the job seemed simple enough, having to do it in such a strenuous and painful cycle would seemingly add a wrinkle to her worn-out face.

At four o'clock, Judy finally began to prepare her trek back to the station. Just thirty more minutes, and her day would finally be over! Fighting the bitter, dry, and biting winds in the outskirts of northern TundraTown, Judy wrote up one last parking violation to a yellow Boarvette that was resting in a fire lane. Glancing down at her handheld printer as she printed the ticket, the three-digit number that it displayed bloomed an ongoing sense of uneasiness. Within an entire day's shift, despite a quota of three hundred tickets _before noon_ , only two hundred and eighty-six were yielded. She should've ticketed that plus an additional fourteen cars at least four hours ago!

Such a low yield of parking violations would no doubt upset the chief. Even if she managed to sweep the entire city, borough to borough and street to street, Bogo knew that finding only two hundred and eighty-six cars parked illegally would be complete nonsense. Judy knew very well the same thing; reading the news one morning, she read an article printed by the Zootopian Times describing how up to fifteen hundred parking violations could be committed on any typical day in the city.

Starting the ignition of the small vehicle once more, Judy allowed the engine to warm up in the brisk weather. Glancing down at the printer, an overwhelming sense of embarrassment flooded though Judy's cheeks upon looking at the shameful number. Judy felt the same heaviness that she experienced on the day she temporarily quit the force; it was an inexplicable sense of hopelessness and frustration, like being stuck in a dark, closed, and empty water tank that was slowly filling up from the bottom. Such a scenario described her problems perfectly: As the workload began to trickle around her ankles and toes, it would catch her off guard and spark a concern. Because simply escaping the layered steel tank and leaving the force was essentially out of the question, the only way she could save herself was to pause the flow of water that was rapidly entering the tank. Yet doing so would be a fruitless task; no amount of strength a bunny could hold would withhold gallons upon gallons of water queueing to enter the tank. Foreseeing the water levels rise higher and higher, Judy knew that she would slowly begin to lose her sanity if this was going to be a day in the life at Bogo's discretion. But even if she slammed her fists against the vessel, pleading for her life that the flow of water would stop, the odds were not going to shift in her direction. It was like the chief was ruling her with an iron grip, and was not going to let go until the whole mess behind Nick's assault would be behind them. Unless someone would find a way to puncture the tank and allow water to flow out, then she would eventually drown in her own work and sanity.

The repulsively sweet smell of exhaust hovered around the idled car. Judy remerged from her suspension in deep thought and recollected her senses. Once she knew where she was and what she was doing, Judy adjusted the hat on her head, turned on the miniature radio of the pathetic car, and slowly began the journey back to the station. She had to constantly remind herself that Bogo would not be pleased at her output of tickets; hopefully she would catch the chief on a good day.

"TWO HUNDRED AND EIGHTY-SIX TICKETS? FOR A TEN-HOUR SHIFT? WHAT, THAT'S IT?!"

"Look, I'm sorry sir, but-"

"No buts! Do you remember how many tickets you were supposed to do by noon, Hopps?"

"Three hundred…Sir?"

"You're god damn right. Now, not even managing to put up that with several hours to spare is pathetic. Absolutely pathetic, and unacceptable! Do you understand?"

"Y-yes, uh, sir."

"Pssh, you're just Goddamn lucky you caught me on a good day, or all Hell would be breaking loose in here. Now, do you care to explain to me why your report shows such a disappointingly low number?"

Judy looked around Bogo's office, which was draped in a shallow shade of light from the obscurity brought on by the shades covering all his windows. The room somehow possessed a yellowish-brown tone to it, which was almost a relief to gaze off into. Having to look at someone who seemed like he was going to burst into flames put too much pressure on Judy to improvise some lousy excuse.

"Uhm…I…I…" she mumbled.

"Go on, spit it out! I don't have all day!"

"I…I just couldn't do it, sir. I don't have an excuse…I simply just didn't do it."

Bogo got up from his office and treaded lightly around his office with his hands behind his back. Expressing his displeasure in sharp exhaled breaths and an increasingly heavy set of strides, he brief waltz around the room was cut short upon his quick return to his desk, seemingly with another painful set of dialogues to dish out.

"Hopps, do you know how long I've been chief of this department?"

"Err…Twenty years?"

"Thirty years. Thirty years of managing a precinct of cops. I've seen thousands of them come and go. Many lasted just a few years, others have worked here much longer than I have. Now the ones that lasted a few years, they all shared one key characteristic with each other. What do you think that is, Hopps?"

"Uh…I don't know; a lack of leadership?"

"WRONG!" shouted Bogo with the slam of a fist, "They all proved to me that cannot meet my expectations of a police officer by not doing what I asked them to do. They all showed me that they don't have a desire to work."

"Oh! Well, I suppose that's reasonable-"

"Then why didn't you write three hundred fucking tickets before noon?! Why didn't you _meet my expectations?_ "

"Um-"

"Go on, spit it out you pathetic, little rabbit! For crying out loud, I'd bet you a nickel that the sloths are growing impatient by now!"

"Is it just because I just couldn't do the work? I do feel like I had a bad day out there…"

"My god," mumbled Bogo as he stood up and glanced out the obscured view from a window, "You _are_ as stupid as you look."

"Hey!"

"SHUT YOUR TINY MOUTH NOW!" he screamed while leaning in on Judy. "Can't you see the answer? It's right in front of you! It's because you don't have a desire to work!"

"That's not true, sir. D-don't you remember the accomplishments I've done in the past year as a police officer?"

"Oh, I remember, Judy. I remember quite well of the things that you have done. But I also remember one particular time that you wrote up quite an impressive number of tickets on your first day as a police officer."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Mhm. Your first day here at the ZPD, back when you were a meter maid. Do you remember how many tickets you wrote up that day?"

"Uhm, with all due respect, sir, I don't have the memory that you think I have. That was a year ago, and I've since moved on from being a meter maid."

"Three hundred and seventy-seven tickets."

"Huh?"

"That's right," spat Bogo as he tossed a folder at Judy that was in an open desk drawer. The label read none other than _Hopps, Judy L. | Parking Duty._ Inside it were three reports of her duties; one from her first day of work, one from her second, and one from today. Leafing through the dusty pages, she saw that on her very first day, she managed to write three hundred and seventy-seven tickets, a number that flirts with an all-time station record of four hundred and two.

"That day, you wrote up nearly four hundred tickets, and if you look at the fine print, you'll notice that you ticked two hundred cars before noon! Two hundred, Hopps! And how many did you get before noon today?"

Judy was too overwhelmed with shame and guilt to initiate a response.

"That's what I thought. How pathetic of you. I ask for three hundred, something completely reasonable and capable for someone like you, and all you can do is dish me half of what I asked. That alone proves to me one thing, Hopps. Go on, ask me. What does such a thing prove, you ask?"

Nearly choked up with an onset of tears, Judy built the strength to repeat the phrase, remembering one piece of advice that Nick told her.

 _Never let them see that they get to you._

"W...What does such a thing prove, sir?"

"All it does is prove to me what you just denied! You don't have the desire to work as a police officer. You're just like the other onset of fools I've given this lecture. You'll leave her as quickly as you arrived, but with a built-up set of self-criticism and hatred towards the city as the one takeaway of working here. And if you think that you can do anything about it, then I suggest that you take your own thoughts with a grain of salt. Have I made myself clear?"

"Y…Yes sir."

"Heh, it's quite funny how they say that if you choose your dream job, then you'll never have to work a day in your life. Pssh, complete rubbish. Here's my one piece of advice for you, Hopps: You know and I know that you wouldn't trade in your badge for anything else in the world. Care to disagree?"

"No, sir."

"I didn't think so. So, if you want the rest of your time, which will probably be not much more than a couple of years, as a police officer to be an ecstatic dream coming true, then I suggest you listen to everything I say and do not suggest otherwise. I don't want to pick up a single word about some assault, I don't want to hear a single peep about the emails, and I don't want to listen to bleeding rumors about blackmail."

"Or what? You'll fire me?"

"No. I won't fire you, Hopps. Instead, I can find ways to make your life a living Hell. You see, Hopps, thirty years in this industry has taught me a lot of things, including the boundaries of an animals' brain. I know ways to make you dread each work day. I know ways to make you loathe at the sight of your badge. I know of ways to destroy the one dream you've had since you were a puny little child. Now, I have other matters to attend to. You have three seconds to leave my office, or I'll have you on twelve-hour parking duty shift tomorrow."

The empty threat seemed to efficiently drive a terrified Judy out of Bogo's office. Before he could even blink, she cascaded her way out of his office with a set of streaming tears coursing down her cheeks. Once the muffled sobs grew fainter and fainter, an onset of uncertain peace filled the air. Raw voltage and a heavy atmosphere materialized within Jasiri's office. He glanced at the folder on his desk. Within it were the descriptive details of a rabbit's three days as a meter maid. Jasiri opened the folder and investigated the first two days of her duty.

The pages each were marked with the seal of Zootopia on the top right, and the identification image of the officer on the other side. Jasiri looked at the bright, charismatic smile that filled Judy's face in her shot; she looked proud, happy, and content to be a police officer. The entire documented first day, which backed up her idea of living in a dream, was clustered with impressive digits of her ticketing abilities. Flirting with the station's record of four hundred and two tickets, it appeared as if she _wanted_ to be a meter maid; such motivation to repeatedly ticket cars is an uncanny, unheard of phenomenon. But the report from today was much different. Judy's smile and her commitment…had vanished. Not once trace of happiness was present in her mug shot; the numbers were able to quantitatively back up her mood.

An itching sense of guilt softly crept up on Jasiri. It whispered in his ears, toyed with his fur, and sent shockwaves down his spine. The more he examined the potential and charm with the city's first rabbit officer, the more regretful he began to feel about tossing her around like a ragdoll. Did she really deserve such a harsh treatment? Was the lecture _absolutely necessary_? Is printing three hundred tickets before noon an accomplishable feat? The questions he began asking itself seemed to catalyze a hunger and craving for a remedy to this inexplicable itch. Almost by second nature, Jasiri opened the bottom left desk drawer that concealed a fresh, unopened bottle of whiskey-scotch paired with a bottle of soda water and a crystal class. Like a thirsty camel after a long trek through a desert, Jasiri eagerly prepared himself a glass of whiskey-soda, nearly topping off the crystal. As he brought the drink up to his lips, a neuron fired the idea of locking his office door as a precaution. The chief abruptly leaped up and rushed to his office door, swiftly locking it. After finally refining himself in his own office space, he began drinking his beverage, hoping that the ethanol would suppress any feelings of guilt and shame for his actions.

The whiskey itself withheld a strong and bitter taste, one that Jasiri initially found to be quite repulsive. He purchased the bottle just a few days ago at a distillery tucked in the far corner of TundraTown, where a day without sunshine was all but common thanks to the frosty winds and the uptake of snowy weather. Nevertheless, the alcohol seemed to provide a warm contrast with each sip that he took. The burn would sear parts of his mouth before flushing its way down into his stomach. Once mixed with his digestive enzymes, a soft, warm, and depressing calm slowly began to take over his body. First it was his stomach; then it was his liver.

Not much later, Bogo forgot why he was yelling at Judy.

Casting his legs across Judy's bed, lying as still as a mummy, Nick gently soaked in his surroundings. The cushion of her mattress was plush and cozy, a blessing to his battered-up head. It was quite the sharp contrast from a stiff, lifeless hospital bed that he was restrained to the past several days. Suspended on a fluffy white cloud was the one prayer that Nick hoped would be answered after his return from the hospital, and to his satisfaction, it was. Suspended between the depths of sleep and the rude atmosphere of reality, Nick felt displaced in a surrealistic state of mind. It wasn't necessarily meditation, but it was able to withdraw him from his physical surroundings and the unpleasant, repulsively sweet car exhaust that was leaching into the apartment. Experiencing a trancelike state of nirvana, Nick's mind was continuously floating downstream during his blissful rest.

He was remerged back into reality when soft footsteps redirected his suspended mind back towards reality. They were typical footsteps, which shouldn't raise any alarm. Opening his eyes and glancing at the clock on the nearby desk, Nick was surprised to see that it was nearly five o'clock! Having nearly "slept" for an hour and a half, now it was right around the time when Judy should get back from her first day back on the force. Although his logical mind rarely drew blank conclusions, his gut told him for some reason that it was Judy. His heartrate picked up as the footsteps got closer and closer to the door; hoping to avoid an awkward eye-contact session upon her impending arrival, Nick sprung out of bed and cast sights on the city skyline which her apartment window offered. Holding his stance steady, expecting the door to creek ajar, he focused his eyes on the clouds that were slowly drifting by. The last thing he wanted was to turn around the second she walked in, which would only rise an awkward session of eye-contact. But as he studied the fluid motion of the white and creamy clouds above him, the kinetic activity in the hallway seemed to halt. The footsteps that plagued his mind just a few seconds ago seemed to diminish altogether, vanishing with the thin air. Deciding to hold out the silence out a little longer in hopes that it was not a false positive, Nick swiftly swiped a typical hospital bill that sat on the nearby desk and pretended to decipher the numbers that were scattered about the page. The strategy seemed to work; after studying the page for all but a few seconds, the faint sound of chiming keys sliding into a lock door disrupted the sound of silence. Ever so slowly, the rusty creaks that were custom to the apartment door began squealing. Sure enough, it was Judy.

Glancing around and expecting a happy rabbit, Nick's pupils shrunk upon the sight of a greyscale, monotone, and discontent one. Judy dragged herself into her apartment, paying no attention to the fox that was in the room. Even though she caught a glance of him at the window, she ignored his presence, footslogging her way towards her bed while looking nowhere but the ground.

"Uh…Hi, Carrots! How was your day?"

Judy didn't respond; once her legs struck the edge of her bed, she faceplanted straight into the mattress.

"Carrots? J-Judy? Are…Are you-"

The drifting question was interrupted by a muffled melody of sobs. A gut-wrenching sense of guilt consumed Nick as he observed Judy's head slightly jerk up and down with each breath and sob that she took. Unsure of how to approach her, Nick respectfully sat down beside her, reserving about four feet of legroom for herself.

"Talk to me, Jude. You know I hate to see you like this."

The onset of tears continued to flow without interruption, and Nick's remark was never responded to, let alone received by Judy. She continued to soak her bedsheets, all while treating him like some kind of ghost. Not wanting to pressure her any further, Nick rested himself on the bed as well, still giving her plenty of space. And he waited. He waited for her to finish draining her emotions. He waited for her sobs to finally diminish. He waited for her to hush like a little baby so he could finally get a chance to embrace her once again. Reminding himself to be a patient mammal was integral to the unfolding drama; the last thing Nick ever desired to do was to make her feel worse than she did.

For around three minutes, he patiently sat through her episode as silent as he could be. Each passing second slowly augmented his growing frustration, concern, and irritation. His emotions began interlocking and fighting a battle with a weakening reserve of patience; keeping himself calm became increasingly difficult, and every muffled sob which choked up his emotions continued to heat his nerves. What was preventing her from talking to him?

A frigid, electric pulse cascaded through his body upon feeling a gentle paw grasp his left arm. Nearly startled upwards by the sensation, Nick alarmingly glanced over to see the helpless, dilatated, tear-stained eyes of Judy looking straight into his. They were screaming for help, support, and comfort. It didn't take a single syllable of language to understand what she wanted.

"Nick…I can't do this anymore," she stuttered.

"What? What can't you do anymore?"

Bowing her head down in shame, surges of tears continued to shred down her face. Without consent, Judy plunged onto Nick, and wrapped her miniscule arms around his soft, warm body.

"Oh, goodness…Com' here, baby girl. I've gotcha…"

Judy's arms squeezed tighter and tighter with every passing second. She buried her head into his chest, just as she did in the hospital earlier.

"Hush now, baby, don't you cry. I'm here for you. I'm not going to let go…"

Wrapping her soft, warm body into his, Nick stroked and scratched Judy's ears as an act of condolence. He didn't care that the front half of his shirt was completely soaked in tears; all he cared about was easing her fragile eggshell mind.

"It's Bogo…" she choked out.

"It's Bogo? What is? Talk to me, Jude."

Now using Nick's chest as a pillow, Judy cast her sights towards the army of plush animals that laid scattered about the upper half of her pillow.

"He…He assigned me to be a meter maid! And I'm going to be until you get back! And…and get this: He…He wanted me to print three hundred tickets by noon today!"

"Three hundred tickets?! Jesus, how many did you get in?"

"I…I only got two hundred a-and eighty-something by the end of the day. I don't know if it's because there wasn't a lot of parking violations today, or if I just wasn't working hard enough, or if I was just having a bad day…"

"Yikes, that…That must have sucked. Did anything else happen?"

Judy tightly grasped Nick's shirt, almost tearing holes in it. "Once Bogo found out, he gave me a hard lecture about how I'm not a good cop, and how I'm going to last for a few years more at most before I resign…"

"Wait, wait, wait – He said that you're _not a good cop?!_ Is that a joke?"

"No! He said that with his own words! He trash-talked about me, my abilities, and even went off on how I was a pathetic little rabbit who was going to put me through Hell until the day I leave or something like that…"

"That son of a bitch…And it's not like you can just quit, Carrots. You've worked for this job for your entire life! And, and with bills to pay, I'd go on to say that leaving at this point isn't just an option."

"Yeah, and I have to help you with your medical bills too so you can go home! That heartless buffalo is making us pay thousands of dollars for something _he_ did! And especially with your low starting income, Nick, you won't be able to keep pace with your bills!"

"Don't worry, Carrots…We'll find a way. We'll get it together, somehow."

"I just don't know what to do, Nick! The chief's going to make my life a living Hell as long as I have to work ourselves out of this financial issue! He's going to work me to the bone for months, if not years!"

Nick dug his claws into Judy's back, delivering her a much-needed back rub. Giving caution to her small size, he lightly rubbed the built-up tension and stress in her muscles.

"We…We'll find a way to work around this, Fluff-Butt. I've known you for an entire year, now. Do you really think that some cranky old buffalo will destroy such an ideal life of someone like you? Not under my watch, they won't!"

Judy cheaply giggled. It served as a quick break from her grief.

"Hey, there's that bunny I know. Are you feeling any better?"

"I don't know, maybe a little bit?"

"Alright, then what can I do to make you feel _much_ better?"

" _You,_ Nick. I need you."

"Heh, I'm here for you all day, Carrots. Twenty-four seven. You know that! And when I get these stupid bandages off my head, then I'll get back to the field with you! There's nothing to worry about. I'm here for you, Judy."

"Thanks, Nick. This…This means a lot to me."

"Well, am I a valuable fox? Yes, yes I am," taunted Nick.

"You stupid dork," chuckled Judy as she sat up beside him. Once examining his indistinguishable green Hawaiian shirt, Judy's cheeks became flushed with embarrassment.

"Oh my goodness, did I do that to your shirt?!" she exclaimed while pointing down at the soaked quadrant of his chest.

"This? Eh, don't worry about it. I've had worse with Finnick. This should clear up in a little bit."

"Are you sure? I have an extra-large shirt you can wear while that dries off if you want?"

"I'm good, Carrot-face, I insist!"

"Come on, Nick!" she pleaded while stroking a leftover tear from an eye, "I don't want to feel guilty for ruining your favorite shirt. Please?!"

Nick rolled his eyes. "Alright, if you insist!"

Judy walked over to her dresser to fetch the oversized shirt while Nick loosened his tie. There was no doubt that he would need to change shirts in her company, but the question whether she was comfortable with him doing it in front of her highlighted his brain.

"Take fast!"

As Nick's tie slipped off, a burgundy shirt flew towards his face and wrapped around his head. Although startled by the sudden blindness, Nick took the fabric off his face and examined it. It wasn't anything too special; just a large shirt, with a small carrot doodled on the front of it.

"Do you want me to turn around while you change?" she asked.

"C'mon, Carrots. You've seen me in my bathing suit! We're not strangers, you know. But you don't have to if you don't want to."

"Okay, just checking! Because I will admit that you can be quite striking."

Nick's eyebrows raised as each button of his shirt became undone. "Now is that so?"

"Perhaps…My goodness, I'm not very good at confessions, am I?"

"Hate to break it to you Carrots, but you're not. Now…How's this for attractive?" exclaimed Nick as he ripped off the soaked and loosened shirt, exposing his physique and rather tender torso.

Instead of getting a giggle, or perhaps a cheesy remark, Nick got nothing but a gaze which he never saw Judy emit ever before. She suddenly began to slowly walk towards him, attracted to his anatomy. Stopping short of a few inches from his body, she gently stroked the fur blanket that wrapped around the flesh and bone of his body.

"Uh…Hi?" asked Nick.

Once again, Judy didn't initiate a response. And just like the previous instance, she didn't need to, for her actions spoke louder than words. She grabbed ahold of his waist and slowly pulled his body towards hers. The closer their bonds became, the closer their lips approached each other. Some supernatural force seemed to draw their heads closer and closer together. As if there was no control for their physical actions, their lips made contact. Grasping ahold of his muzzle, Judy applied firm pressure to Nick as they exchanged a deep and passionate kiss, one which stretched into several seconds. As the embers of love spontaneously ignited, the two began to get a taste of each other as the kiss was introduced to some mild tongue action. The potency of the kiss hurled them onto Judy's bed. The embers that lay in between each other's hearts ignited as the kiss became increasingly intimate; what started with passion evolved into lust as their bodies got closer and closer to each other.

Nick's heartrate picked up rapidly as their intimacy became much more personal. The deep and penetrating kisses were briefly withheld when he helped her take off all her uniform. Because his veins were saturated with coursing adrenaline and testosterone, his hands began shaking as he assisted her with her vest, and eventually the rest of her blouse. Tossing the fabric aside, Nick blindly assisted Judy with the bottom half of her uniform. To his dismay, Judy's tight pants were able to slide off with much more ease than he expected. The two locked eyes as Nick tossed the garment aside.

Now it was Judy's turn. Without breaking firm eye contact with her fox, Judy slowly reached towards the old pair of khakis that he often wore. Ignoring the sloppiness associated with his clothing, she reached for his zipper. Judy first loosely fumbled with the large button, eventually getting it undone. Spikes of estrogen mechanically flowed through her body, causing a rabble of butterflies to swarm her stomach. She was left with no choice but to break eye contact to finish what she had already began. A soft and developing discomfort was only augmented when she began to fiddle with his zipper. Pressured to swiftly unzip it, she frustratingly tinkered with its mechanics, eventually letting it become undone after a couple of tries. Slowly allowing it to drop, with an irrational fear of _snagging_ it against his undergarments – or worse – his genitalia, Judy guided it down towards the bottom, and conquered her fear in the process. Nick took over and slid his pants off, tossing them onto the heaping mound of fabric beside the bed. What was left was a side of Judy that Nick never thought he would have seen: The bridge between a strong and healthy platonic friendship and a deep, psychedelic, and emotional relationship. Their underwear.

Heavy breathing of the hot, energetic, and electric air pursued the first step as the two began a brief study of each other's undergarments. Nick had nothing but an old pair of boxers, decorated with miscellaneous navy-blue pawprints accompanied with a greyish-white backdrop. Judy's undergarments were matching; a black sports bra and a complementing set of spanks lay before Nick.

Judy pulled Nick in towards her body, exchanging the heat that radiated from their two bodies. She stroked his muzzle again, continuing to admire his gusto and beauty while doing so. Feeling his body up close was a blessing to her, one that she wanted to last forever. She squeezed her eyes closed briefly as they exchanged one more long and passionate kiss. Once their lips parted, Judy grew bold enough to make the next move, and began to run her fingers within the tight lining of Nick's boxers. She began by stroking her thumb between his soft, delicate fur and the elastic band that circumnavigated his waist. Her other hand soon followed, and before long she worked both her hands towards his sides. By the time her hands stalled at his sides, her deep and heavy breathing intensified; a growing sense of both guilt and anticipation was eating her away.

"N-nick…Are you sure you're ready for this? I don't want to pressure you into doing something you're not comfortable with," she mumbled.

"You're doing okay, Carrots. You need this…We…We both need this…"

Judy took a big gulp, and slowly pulled down Nick's boxers, which neatly slipped off his long legs. She tossed them aside and fell back onto her back; her body was so tender, so weak, so _helpless_. Envisioning Nick with so much lust and sexiness was a manuscript derived from her wildest dreams, yet it was right in front of her.

The spotlight shifted to Nick, who felt equally as compelled to satisfy such a lustful craving. He began by reaching for the sports bra that she was wearing. Wrapping his warm, fuzzy arms around her plush body, Nick foolishly began to fiddle with the bra straps that never existed. His hands scoured her back as they desperately searched for anything that would assist him in removing her clothing. After a futile and fruitless series of attempts, the sexual momentum in the room came to a standstill. The disruption of Judy's sexual and psychedelic experience was quite humorous during Nick's struggle, and she couldn't help but giggle. Grasping both of his hands, she made soft and warm eye contact with the Nick.

"Allow me, you dumb fox."

Nick rolled his eyes, but moved his hands aside and allowed Judy to strip the undergarment off with ease. Seeing her curvature, her shape, and her color cased in front of the golden blaze of an afternoon sunset made Nick's knees shake. Once she gave a visual cue to resume his duty, Nick directed his attention towards the spanks that enveloped the lower half of her body. Paralleling her actions earlier, he began by running two sets of fingers along her waistband that wrapped tightly around her hips. Once his fingers were aligned at her waist, a visual confirmation with Judy allowed her underwear to peel off easily. The black fabric brushed against her fur as it travelled down her legs, and slid off with little to no effort. Once Nick set aside her spanks, he examined her body, top to bottom. She was much more beautiful than he anticipated, and the bond his eyes made with her body was one that no amount of energy in the universe could put in to break.

"Are…Are you okay, Nick?" she asked upon seeing his blank face.

Judy was just _so heavy_ ; his weight was drawn to hers. He couldn't help but rest his body on top of hers.

"You're beautiful, Judy. I…I love you."

"I love you too, Nick."

Nick struck first with the intimacy. He began by rubbing her abdomen, an act which released built-up tension and anxiety that was built up inside of her. Ever so slowly, she coaxed his paw southbound: past the milky-white fur of her lower abdomen, over her belly button, and eventually to the boundaries of her genitalia.

Quiet and mild whimpers began to blend in with the prerequisite of her heavy breathing. Watching her chest gently rise and gently fall at an accelerating pace, Nick slid a finger inside of her. Judy's anticipation to the penetration was met with powerful muscle contractions: Her back arched with all its might, causing her to grasp the bedsheets to counteract the reflux. Nick continued to light her fire by introducing another finger. Experimenting with his muscle movements, he resorted to flicking his fingers forward, creating what looked to be a gesture to lure someone to him. Repeating the signal amplified Judy's moans and whimpers, which already sounded like they were approaching a climax.

"Oh, Nick…S-stop…I'm...I'm going to-"

Pausing the session, Nick released the tension and glanced at Judy out of concern.

"Are you okay? I'm not hurting you, am I?"

"No…It's just v-very intense…" she moaned, trying to catch her breath.

Without her consent, Nick slid his two fingers back inside and resumed the gestures he was conducting before, with surprising results.

Judy's heart rate picked up dramatically, and her back arched even further than it did before. Whimpers evolved into moans, and moans cascaded into shouts of pleasure and intensity. The overwhelming sense of emotion released the built-up tension and suspense compacted in her muscles. Within a span of fifteen seconds, white spots filled Judy's already blind vision as a pulsating orgasm flushed her organs with pleasure and contentment. She covered her mouth in an attempt to avoid an embarrassing orgasmic shout, one which she felt would put her down to shame. Once the fire finally died down, so did her muscles, moans, and breaths. Nick finished off by gently sliding his fingers out, leaning in towards her face, and delivering a lustful kiss.

"How was that?" he asked.

"That was…Intense. I…I never knew they would be that intense! How did you get so good at this?!"

"Meh…I've had practice."

"W-wait; this isn't your first time?"

"Nuh-uh."

Judy briefly covered her cleavage, feeling a tingle of embarrassment.

"Hey, what's the matter?" remarked Nick.

"I…I don't know. It's just that I…I'm…"

"Are you a virgin, Judy?"

A shameful nod.

"Hey, no need to be ashamed in that! To tell you the truth, I didn't lose mine until I was twenty-six. If that makes you feel better."

"R-really?"

"Yeah! But that's for a different story. Now, as for you, do…Do you want to go again?"

"I wanna love you 'til the stars fall from the sky..."

Without further ado, a second round began. Nick tossed himself back onto the bed, and Judy hesitantly climbed on top of him. As their bodies slid closer and closer together with each passing second, it was Nick's turn to endure an onset of firing neurons. As Judy adjusted herself into a comfortable position, he closed his eyes and embraced the pleasure that he was receiving. The young lust between the two grew heavier and heavier as their motions coaxed upwards and downwards. Judy once again had trouble containing her whimpers and moans, which slowly slipped out of her vocal chords as the session pressed on. Nick, on the other hand, maintained a constant yet heavy onslaught of deep and penetrating breaths. Likewise, he grasped the bedsheets with all his might to battle an uncontrollable urge to moan.

With each passing second, their motions picked up in velocity; the intensity grew alongside it. Judy maintained difficulty in bearing her emotions, while Nick's heavy breathing picked up in pace. The next thirty seconds were spent in climaxing, blinding orgasms. Nick was the first one to arrive; he opened his eyes for the first time as euphoria flushed his entire body with the release of built-up tension. His vocal cords finally gave way as his body gushed in an unforgettable psychedelic experience.

"Ah…J-Judy…"

Judy arrived no more than fifteen seconds later. As Nick powered through a battle with unnerving sensitivity, Judy was only beginning to coast at the top of her peak. A vicious onslaught of shaking limbs, uncontrollable moans, and an unyielding climax consumed her entire body. Lasting for over twenty seconds, she embraced the electric currents that coursed through her body. Once the juices began to devolve, so did their emotions. The hot and sticky air seemed to return back into a cool breeze as a sense of reality returned for the two. Once Judy managed to catch her breath, she climbed out and plotted herself next to Nick, stroking his warm, silky fur.

"You…You were good!" heaved Nick.

"Thanks…You were too!"

The last rays of sunset that glowed throughout the apartment slowly began to sink with the horizon. The heat that struck the two, laying side by side in bed, wrapped them in a warm and comforting pocket of energy. Because of the hard work of their respective performances, a sleepy spell cast over them. Nick became the first to lose a battle with his conscious; he drifted off to sleep with the pleasurable sensation of Judy's soft paws stroking against his chest. Given just a few more minutes, Judy also was cast into a spell of sleepiness. Glancing over at the clock on the table, she made out that it was about five thirty; a little early for her to be heading to sleep, but perhaps a power nap wouldn't hurt. What was there to lose? The two of them worked hard that evening; a long, well-deserved rest was all they could have asked for. Judy kissed Nick's muzzle one more time, embracing each and every second of his presence beside her.

"I feel lost, Nick. I just don't know why…" she mumbled though she knew he was sleeping.

"It's like I'm empty and aching, being drained of all the hard work…I have to go through Hell again tomorrow, but somehow…You seem to keep me from going insane-"

Muffled snores interrupted her train of thought, and served as a reminder that she needed some sleep herself. Reaching to their feet and pulling a loose blanket over themselves, Judy gently closed her eyes, rested her head on Nick's chest, and drifted off to sleep with him.


	15. The Hymn of the Shepherd

A vicious onslaught of screams from the alarm clock startled Judy awake. The yelps penetrated her ear drums and made her heart skip a few beats. Slowly opening her sensitive eyes, she glanced over at the alarm clock on her desk, barley making out the neon-green light that displayed the three digits. Five thirty, her normal wake-up call for a work day.

Feeling strapped to her bed, Judy worked up the courage to slowly slither out of it, trying her best to not disrupt Nick, who was still out cold. She crawled to the foot of the bed, landed on her bare two feet, and slithered toward the alarm clock. It took her a few fumbles, but her finger finally glided over what must have been the snooze button. Before pressing it, Judy contemplated about spending another fifteen minutes in bed, with her craving for Nick's soft and warm body already setting in. Logic, however, replenished instinct and she shamefully pressed the button next to it, cutting off the sirens of her alarm clock off for good. Glancing over in the near darkness, she saw Nick shuffle his body, seeking a more comfortable position. It almost appeared as if he was indistinctly looking for something – perhaps somebody – to snuggle with. An onset of guilt sunk in upon such a heartless sight. But then again, she would see him again tonight.

Judy's eyes, now able to make out vague patterns and outlines in her apartment, needed to search for her underwear. All she was able to remember was tossing it aside no more than twelve hours ago; it shouldn't have gone too far. Blindly scanning the floor for any abnormalities, with only the vague moonlight acting as an assistant, Judy began searching for her sports bra and spanks, both of which were good enough to wear for another day. After stalking around the floorboards for a minute or so, her left foot was suddenly submerged in a mound of cold fabric. Reaching down and deciphering what was what, Judy managed to find her sports bra tucked underneath all of Nick's garments. Slipping her underwear on, Judy began searching for her bottom half, which logically shouldn't be too far away. It didn't seem to be in the pile that she stumbled upon, despite a painstakingly thorough search. She did, however, find Nick's boxers in the pile; his unmistakable scent was embedded into the cloth, and she couldn't help but grasp it tightly. A fruitless search through the entire apartment in the dark rendered nothing, as did a search with the flashlight on her phone. Judy tossed in the towel completely after another ten minutes of searching, for she would be late if she did not get ready. Although her frustration began to boil, Judy noticed that an acceptable alternative was gripped in her right paw. Hopefully Nick wouldn't mind.

Judy slipped on the boxers, and her sports bra shortly afterwards. Feeling more comfortable with her cleavage now covered, she glided around the apartment like she would every morning to get ready to work. Crisscrossing between dressers, cabinets, cupboards, and desks, Judy managed to get ready in a swift five minutes, which would give her fifteen to get to the station; plenty of time. Before launching out the door, with keys in hand, Judy paused herself short of opening the door handle when a loud and obnoxious snore nearly startled her.

She glanced back at Nick, who was still sleeping like a log. He seemed to find peace in not having Judy by his side anymore; it reminded her of the guilt that she felt obligated to experience. He didn't even know that she was wearing his boxers at this very moment! She took a deep breath and quietly glided next to his body. Judy gently stroked his muzzle, admiring the aesthetic beauty withheld in his face and body. Having to leave him in the dark, seemingly without reason or rhyme, send Judy into the blues. Inexplicably, her mind reminded itself that such a gorgeous opportunity to make love to Nick was just a flicker of light in the dark; she still was a lonely police officer. One who was harassed and abused by a police chief that hated her guts. One who was wasting time, trying to get her favorite fox back onto his feet. Such a pessimistic view of life made Judy want to squander any second possible with him. Leaving him on his own, for just the second time, just felt like two times too many. Nevertheless, she had to go to work, for her job was already on a short fuse with the explosive Bogo. No matter how much she wanted to call in sick, no sick day could make up a lost job. Kissing his muzzle, right above his nose, Judy painfully let him rest. Pulling up the covers to envelope his entire body, she made her way back to the door, opened it up, and cast herself away towards a second day in hell.

They say that no matter how bad your job may be – whether it is brutal, demanding, boring, dangerous – that you always find something to keep you going. It may be the children that you have back at home; it may be a towering stack of bills that needs to be clear-cut; it may be to get yourself, or someone you love, to get back onto her feet. Judy gave herself plenty of time to reflect on what her motive was to work on the subway. For even though she needed to help Nick, having to drag herself into a place where she can't handle an ever-increasing demand of work, combined with the cuts and bruises from Bogo that made her cry out, made her question whether this job was worth it.

"Officers Higgins, Wolford, Fangmeyer, TundraTown S.W.A.T.! Delgado, Francine, Grazolli, undercover. Officer Hopps…Parking duty."

Something inside Judy made her want to resist, but yet some other instinct prevailed, and the disappointed rabbit stood perfectly still in her chair. She knew this was coming, no matter how much she didn't want to do it. Her inner child was screaming; it didn't want to commit to parking duty! What ever happened to patrol? A miscellaneous robbery case? Being _a real cop_? But her logistical and perhaps pessimistic knew the obscured yet obvious answer. As long as she would be suspended in this entanglement of a mess, the chief would find ways to keep her quiet.

 _I won't fire you, Hopps. Instead, I can find ways to make your life a living Hell._

Judy's mind was cascaded into a positive feedback loop; every time her thoughts cycled back to the thrash of words that Bogo penetrated Judy with, her gut would continue to wrench and grow tight.

"Hopps, how many times to I need to get your attention? Get a move on, or you'll workload will go from three-hundred by noon to three-fifty!"

"Erm…Yes, sir!" sharply replied a startled Hopps as she sprang from her seat.

"I don't want to have to ask again. Six hundred tickets by the end of the day, like I just said! Oh, and might I add that I need you to come and see me at the end of your shift."

"For what?"

"Well, it will depend on your performance today. You'll either get a lecture like I had to give you yesterday,"

 _'_ _Hardly,'_ thought Judy.

"Or recognition for your hard work. Either way, come and visit my office between four to four-thirty. Whenever your shift ends. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Alright, let's get a move-on then. Those tickets won't write themselves!"

The barking buffalo slipped behind the doorway and began to make his way towards his office, which rested on the top floor of the station. It involved a bit of a trek, one which would direct him up three flights of stairs, through twelve corridors, and past an army of probably thirty officers, all of whom were waiting to slip into the break room and get their paws on the sharp, black, and boiling-hot coffee currently being brewed. The drip machine was a very peculiar coffee maker. Nobody in the station knows much about its age (due to the fact that it has been there longer than the longest-serving officer), but the dry humor that floats around is that it's an old-style coffee maker, one which would even make sloths impatient, retrofitted into an aesthetic coating of stainless steel and compact machinery.

Bogo made it to his office, with his own reserves of coffee running dangerously low for probably the fifth time that morning. He fumbled with the keychain in his pocket, leafing through the dozens that were married to the lanyard. Many of them served little to no purpose as a chief; keys to the vaults, interrogation rooms, evidence room, roll call, and even to rooms that he felt quite confident he never set foot in. His shaky hands struggled to hold the keychain steady, and nearly lost the position of his office key as a consequence. Nevertheless, Bogo managed to grab ahold of his target, and unlocked his door a short time later. The warm and stiffy aroma of coffee greeted his nostrils upon entrance. His personal coffee pot was dribbling a steady volume of the liquid; when he turned the machine on no more than fifteen minutes ago, it was completely empty. Tucked in the far-right corner of his office, nearly obscured by heaping loads of paperwork and bundles of office supplies, was another fresh batch calling his name. Bogo's mouth began to water, thus beginning a brisk walk into his office. Scrambling for a coffee cup, ceramic or Styrofoam, turned up a fruitless search. With thousands of documents clustered onto his desk, turning over all but a few would only increase the disorganization and entropy which plagued his entire office for the past twelve hours. Jasiri vented his frustration by spinning the near-empty whiskey bottle which sat as the centerpiece of his desk. Once its spin began to decelerate, the head of the bottle pointed towards an unusually tall stack of paperwork; the top document encoded information about the policies and regulations about the ZPD. Spinning the bottle again, the head came to rest pointing at a mound of the profiles of nearly every officer working for him. Their mugshots, phone numbers, email addresses were all on display for him. Resting his paw on the desk, Bogo gave the bottle one more spin, with this one specifically receiving a much sharper release. The whiskey bottle spun for around fifteen seconds, and the head finally came to rest by pointing at a file cabinet to the left of Bogo. Glancing over at the relatively clean patch of his office, he was delighted to find an old Styrofoam cup, parked in the corner of the cabinet and the back wall of his office. A minute amount of cold, stale coffee was tucked towards the bottom of the turn sided cup, which was probably used no more than several hours ago.

Springing from his chair, Bogo swiped the cup from the ground. He investigated it thoroughly, like any investigation he assisted with throughout his history in the ZPD. Besides a lone fly that had intentions to set up camp, the flask seemed relatively good for a second use. A quick trip to the nearby restroom sinks allowed for a quick and easy rinse of the cup, which looked like brand new by the time the chief returned to his office. Without any further hesitation, he topped off another cup of coffee, tossing in a sugar cube that sat nearby to add a touch of sweetness. Sitting down at his desk, Bogo took notice of the dark, steaming liquid he was holding; despite having a firm grasp of the cup with both hands, an army of ripples, crashing waves, and splashing droplets plagued the surface of the coffee. The drowsiness that has been dragging him down since around ten o'clock last night was now eating away at his impairment and motor skills; no longer could he hold a pen or pencil steady, read any line of text while fighting an uphill battle with dizziness and drowsiness, or let alone allow a damn cup of coffee pull him through for another hour or so. Sooner or later, he would need to get some shut-eye. Sooner…Or later….

A sharp knock shook Bogo back into reality.

"Er- come in!"

Bashfully poking her head in, Kayla Fangmeyer exchanged a welcoming glance with Chief Bogo.

"Good morning, Fangmeyer."

"Morning, chief. Can I come in?"

"Fine, just don't step on anything, or move anything…Or touch something."

"You're the boss," mumbled Fangmeyer as she invited herself in and navigated herself through the endless sea of debris which lead to his desk. She managed to sit herself down in the one of the two seats which was not occupied by what must have been hundreds of files.

"What do you need? I'm…I'm on a-"

A case of the hiccups took over the chief.

"T-tight shift right now."

"Well, I was here for a totally awesome idea I just had. So you remember bringing up a while back some kind of welcome-back party for Nick, right?"

"Mhm."

"Well, I was talking with Judy this morning after roll call, just a few minutes ago, and she mentioned to me on how much he likes _poker_."

"Poker?"

"That's right. So here's my pitch to you: What if we get some of the station to set up…A poker night! We'll bring in some of the best players on the team, put some others on duty that night, and just have a little fun! Let him know that we are still here for him!"

"Poker night…Where would we hold this? Here?"

"Well we could...But I was also thinking about the Palm Oasis! In Sahara Square!"

"Are you out of your mind, Fangmeyer?! We're not a biker gang. We're not business entrepreneurs. And we sure as hell aren't millionaires! We're police officers. We don't rent out a few tables at the Palm Oasis. If we're doing a poker night, it'll be here."

"Aw, c'mon! It'd be fun! I don't see harm in it! We can dress up very formally and just rent out a table or two! It won't be weird, unprofessional, or even expensive! Like I said, we can get some of the other officers to cover for the night! We can put some high stakes in too, just to mix things up! After all, I've heard that Nick could use the extra money to help with his bills."

"How much would a night like this cost? I'm not made of money, Fangmeyer."

"I haven't gotten into that just yet, but I can get back to you later today if that works."

"Urgh. I'll give you until three o' clock this afternoon. No, let's make it two. So that gives you seven hours to give me details. If I don't hear back from you by then, consider _folding that idea_."

Kayla smirked. "Was that pun intended?"

"Ah, Jesus. I did it again, didn't I? No, that was not intended, just something I say occasionally."

"Whatever. I'll look into it, and get back to you soon. How does that sound?"

"Just don't be late. Dismissed."

"Yes, sir. I'll catch you later!"

Kayla's positive voice was such a mouthful to the chief; thank goodness he would have seven hours to himself, away from her optimism, to catch up on the task at hand. A pair of hiccups popped out of his diaphragm, catching him off guard.

The door to his office squeaked shut again, and Bogo was submerged in yet another long session of silence. The coffee he was still holding was still piping hot; nevertheless, in a last resort to keep his conscious alert, the chief managed to swallow the fiery liquid in a few gulps. His esophagus and stomach went through a mesmerizing ordeal of pain as the coffee burned his insides. Once the burning sensations ceased to keep him from holding his breath, Bogo pulled his mind together and resumed the work he already started.

Scanning the disordered desk frantically, he began searching for a pale-yellow document, one which was integral to the work he needed to get done. Yet in the vague sea of white papers, nothing more was to be found. Leafing through stacks upon stacks of information turned up nothing that he was looking for; even double, sometimes triple-checking his desk yielded no evidence of his bank statement. Scanning his drawers and the messy floors that encumbered him became a fruitless task as well. Concern mutated into anxiety as paranoia set in. Was it the hot coffee? Was it the lack of sleep? Was it his spiral towards insanity?

 _Where is it?!_

Resting his hands on his head, Bogo vented out the steam of frustration which pressurized his mind and body. The strategy seemed to help him calm down – almost too much. The rest gave his mind a narrow opportunity to remind itself of sleep deprivation. The chief knew this would be inevitable, for anything – even sharp rocks or hot asphalt – would be a comfortable pillow. The lava hot coffee that he ingested a few minutes ago wouldn't be enough to save him from slipping into unconsciousness. Although his mind tried its hardest to fight, Bogo succumbed to sleep deprivation and drifted off, with the cold, hard wood of his desk serving as a spur-of-the-moment pillow.

First, it began with the frosty guardrails.

Suspended one hundred and twenty feet in the air, with only a weak and slippery one-armed grip separating him from the top of the tower and a nine-second fall to the ground below, Bogo hung over the edge of one of the most recognizable buildings in the world. The sun was sinking slow, and every passing second stripped valuable daylight from his eyes. A steady breeze tossed his loose body around like a ragdoll; hitting the observation deck once or twice nearly made him lose his grip. Despite a very unsteady grip on the icy handlebar, the risk of falling would be even greater by attempting to put the other hand on the guardrail. If he took anything away from training at the ZPD, it was that he couldn't risk putting his own life in danger more than it already is. The only weapons he had that could save him were his lungs and his body.

The observation deck itself was abnormally packed, with a wide spectrum of animals observing the city. Somehow, Bogo noticed that none of them saw a gigantic buffalo clinging to the guardrails beside their feet, holding on for dear life. Perhaps he could use this to get out of a seemingly doomed situation.

Screaming as loud as his vocal cords would let him, Bogo cried a desperate distress call, hoping that someone would come to his aid and save him. The improvised plan, however, backfired when no audio emitted from his mouth. Not a scream, a word, or even a peep – only the sounds of silence. A last resort to make his presence known was to use his other hand and strike against the stainless steel that held the observation deck in place. Each pound, slap, or hit was able to rattle the structure, yet nobody noticed. Nobody could see him. Nobody could hear him.

The ice on the handlebar began to bear its weight down on the buffalo. With each passing second, his grip would slowly begin to diminish. Any hope of survival, of rescue, of recognition also seemed to diminish as an impending fate lied before him. As the sun emitted the last rays of sunlight onto the tower, Bogo was swallowed into darkness, and felt more helpless and invisible than ever before. It seemed that the only way he could be saved was to do it himself.

A last resort strategy hit Bogo, with only seconds to spare before a plunge into what would be certain death. Just like he did with Justin on the swing set back at his parent's home, he began swinging his body, slowly picking up bits and pieces of momentum. Left and right, increasing his height bit by bit, Bogo carefully swung his body upwards. The spontaneously formulated plan initially seemed to work; as a bundle of hope rendered tension and adrenaline boosts in his body, he suddenly felt a reversal of fortune. On one particular swing, the highest he has yet achieved, another gust of wind struck his body, and his hand gave away. Despite the peculiar events unfolding, still nobody saw what was happening.

Bogo's body briefly cascaded upwards before beginning an absolutely terrifying and death-defining plunge towards the surface of the Earth. What augmented the horror that he was experiencing during this was that he seemed to experience the fall in slow motion. What should be a brief last nine seconds of his life stretched out into what felt like several minutes. His stiff, tender body corkscrewed in chaotic motion while it cut through the hazy smog that wrapped around the Amazon Tower. During this suspended state of reality, Bogo was drowned in confusion and fear, with whistling wind and an askew perspective of the ground. His throat quickly became dry as it choked the dirty and dry air, and he grew nauseated from the sudden movements, a consequence of the plunge. By the time the ground was no more than a few seconds away, an ear-piercing, blood-curling scream finally leaked from his vocal cords. He approached the ground faster and faster, until suddenly-

"S-sir?"

An unintentional reflux of his wound-up body exploded when Bogo was pulled back into reality. The screams he emitted during the dream didn't translate into reality, but they very nearly did so. The only evidence that he went through an ordeal of a nightmare was heavy, congested breathing and a racing heartbeat. Once aware that he wasn't a dead buffalo, he looked to see what the origin of the sound and the poke of his shoulder was.

"Fangmeyer, what did I say about entering my office without permission?!" he cried stubbornly.

"Sorry to disrupt your beauty sleep, sir, but it's five minutes until two and I wanted to keep true to my promise."

The chief rubbed sleep out of his eyes, shadowing the embarrassment of dosing off at work.

"So…Do you want to hear what I was able to find?" she added.

"Just make it quick, I have work to get done."

"Alright. So, when on patrol today, I stopped by the Palm Oasis and was lucky enough to arrange a meeting with the casino manager. He explained to me that he'd be willing and able to rent out a few tables for us! I have a small brochure that lists the prices…They don't look _too_ expensive, and I think it'd be a worthy investment!"

The chief investigated the pamphlet that Fangmeyer slipped out of her back pocket. Leafing through the pages, which were filled with several stock photos of animals playing card games, laughing, and "having a good time".

"The second to last page has all the info you'll need."

Turning to the back of the book per Fangmeyer's request, the last two pages were encoded with several tables that described the prices of renting parts of the casino. By the looks of the brochure, Palm Oasis was quite a flexible casino; they were willing to rent out a single table for the night, for two thousand dollars, up to the entire casino for a few days, costing two _hundred_ thousand dollars per night.

"Jesus, quite an investment it must be to rent out the entire fucking casino…I'd be willing to rent out no more than two poker tables."

"That's what I had in mind."

"How many players per table? What, isn't it like eight or something like that?"

"Oasis has poker tables for nine players plus the dealer, so we just need to grab eighteen of our best poker players."

Still foggy from the abrupt end to a bizarre nightmare, the chief needed time to think about the proposal.

"Alright, eighteen players, four thousand dollars, four weeks from now. Just give me time to think about it, because there are three or four other proposals that some officers have pitched to me yesterday."

"Thanks for considering me, sir."

"Yeah, yeah. Now, out of my office, I have lots of work to catch up on," he spat.

"Erm, before I go, sir, I need you to _do me a favor_."

The stress on the last four words was the audial queue that the chief has grown used to the past thirty-six hours.

"You didn't get yours yet? I thought you came in yesterday!"

"I think you are referring to Officer Wilson, sir. She came in yesterday afternoon."

"Jesus, fine. Let me get my checkbook."

Searching through a partially-opened drawer in his desk, the chief found his checkbook, which has been tapped into excessively as of recent; only fifteen more checks could be issued before he would need to return to the bank.

"Alright, so you promise that you have upheld the promise and will continue to do so about not disclosing any information about the assault?"

"Yes, sir. I promise."

"Mkay."

The chief scribbled his sloppy signature onto a check four two thousand, five-hundred dollars to Fangmeyer.

"How many of these things have you written?"

"The checks? You'd be either the thirty-third or thirty-fourth. I'll need to write you down in the logbook and the bank statement and I could find out for sure."

"Jeez, chief! You made of money or something?!"

"I wish. If you greedy whores would stop asking me for money, then _maybe_ I could pay my bills and sleep at night, at home, in my bed next to my pet fish. But life has its ways to make sure I can't do that. And now I have to worry about a missing bank statement and the white-out for the policy manuals-"

"I beg your pardon?!"

Realizing he leaked out too much information, Bogo's eyes shrunk.

"Get out of my office. Disclose any of what I just said, and I'll revoke the check and put you on parking duty. _Do not test me_."

"Y-yes sir," mumbled a disgusted, angry, and spooked tiger. She slithered out of his office and out of sight for the second time that day.

"Ah, god damn it…" mumbled Bogo.

Hoping to mask the hot sense of embarrassment, married with a gut-wrenching surge of adrenaline, the chief reached into one of his disorganized drawers and pulled out a cigar. Using his other hand to grasp a lighter in his pocket, he aligned the flame and the tip of the tobacco. But a case of very shaky arms made lighting the delicacy more of a chore than a relief; the dancing flame took several seconds before it could combust any tobacco shavings within the cigar. Instead of suspending the hot, bitter, and dry smoke in his mouth, the chief took a deep breath, allowing it to invade his lungs. The first-time experience (aside from an isolated incident several days ago) took him by surprise, and his burning lungs rejected the smolder in a whooping onset of barking coughs. Oddly enough, Bogo found the experience rather soothing, and he wisped another cloud of the invasive smoke into his body, suppressing any coughs that would soon follow.

Back to work. Bogo glanced at the clock; six minutes past two. _HOLY SHIT!_ Nearly leaping out of his chair, a boost of energy cascaded him back into the work which he needed to desperately catch up on. Knowing that a nap would come back and bite him in the butt, a frantic panic attack caught up to him. He began by resuming the crucial search for the missing yellow paper. Where could it have gone? The bank statement was, all in all, the most important document that he once held. With it gone, very little, if anything, could be done at all. Bogo's knuckles grew white with the buildup of stress, thus nearly causing his smoldering cigar to crumble apart. Noticing the bottle which still laid still on his desk, Bogo gave it one more good spin, hoping that a growing sense of superstition would redirect him back on course to his… _dirty work_.

The centrifugal spin on the bottle kept it afloat for several seconds, and it appeared almost as if there was no end to the mighty spin that Bogo applied to it. Eventually, it did come to a grinding halt. Where else could the head of the bottle point to?

A miniature bottle of white out, disguised in what looked to be a bottle of nail polish. Right beside it? Stacks upon stacks of policies regarding employee information, rules, regulations, and communications. The bottle seemed to give him direction, even if it didn't point him in the direction that he desired.

The next two hours were spent without Bogo breaking a sweat; with his job hanging by a thread, one hiccup, one misspell, even one grammatical error in what he was doing would not only secure a resignation, but likely an orange uniform and a prison cell beside Dawn Bellwether. Using nothing but a brush, the noxious smelling paint, a pen, and his incredible calligraphy skills, Bogo carefully scanned each and every one of the manuals that he stockpiled from the station vaults. If any one section, sentence, or even _word_ would be enough to shatter his fragile career, it would be altered. Rewritten. Erased. Replaced. Whatever it may be, each manual would depict, by the end of the day, an altered publication of the rules that Bogo never broke. His job depended on it; battling nauseating fumes, a dreary sense of concentration, and a father's shout from the back of his mind regarding a bank statement, the chief never hesitated one second to cut corners and make things right.

 _Knock knock._

"Who is it?" called a startled Bogo.

"It's Hopps. You said you wanted to see me?"

"Right, come on in."

As her small and furry body squeezed in through the doorway, the chief disposed of the third cigar he was in the middle of smoking that day. Furthermore, he closed any documents and hid the white-out as to not look suspicious.

"Three hundred tickets by noon, Hopps. Six hundred by the end of your shift. Now, when I pull up my laptop and look at the report, will I be satisfied or disappointed in your work?"

"Uh…I believe you will be s-satisfied, sir."

The chief slowly pulled out the laptop from his briefcase.

"I don't sense a lot of confidence in your voice, Hopps…"

The laptop, outdated for what looked to be by at least a decade, coughed up and began, with the cooling fan rotating like a jet turbine. Without locking any sort of eye contact, the two sat in silence for the three or so minutes it took for the chief to pull up the report that was submitted within the past hour. Only the disembodied voices of passing mammals and the city outside buffered the awkwardness which settled in Bogo's office.

"Six-eleven. Three hundred and two by noon, and another three hundred and nine since then. Very good Hopps, much better than what you did yesterday."

"Thank you, sir."

"See? Being a meter maid for a little longer won't hurt you too much…I don't see why you should feel unconfident with your voice!"

Expecting a chuckle, or at least a friendly acknowledgement, Bogo turned and looked at Judy for the first time since his laptop booted up. But instead of seeing anything remotely satisfactory, he saw a tear dribble down her cheek.

"What's with the tears, Hopps? You did good today! And because of that, I'm considering to bump your quota down tomorrow!"

"It's nothing to do with the parking tickets, sir."

"Alright, do you want to talk about it, then?" he asked in a fragile and gentle voice.

Judy gathered herself and took a deep breath. Without acknowledgement of what Bogo said, she reached into her back pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. Nothing too out of the ordinary, except…

 _It was yellow_.

' _No, it couldn't…It can't be…'_

"So this morning, you dropped something as you left roll call. This yellow paper…This bank statement," she said while grasping the paper, diminishing the uniform smoothness that associated it, "You know and I know what this paper means."

Bogo's worst fears came true. Upon taking a look at the document when Judy gave him the offer to view it, a peculiar-looking payroll was presented right before his eyes.

"Give me that," he snarled while snatching the paper from her hands. "It's a payroll. What has you so worked up about it?"

"Don't bullshit me, Bogo!" snapped Judy. "That's not a payroll. Do you think I was born in a barn?!"

Startled by what seemed to be the first time he heard vulgar vocabulary escape her lips, the chief's sense of sanity began to slip.

"What the hell are you talking about? Have you gone mad? Of course this is a payroll! How else am I supposed to pay the entire damn precinct in the next fucking couple of weeks?!"

"If _anything_ you said was even remotely true, then you'd realize that you're missing three important names. Where's Nick? Where am I? Where are you? This isn't a budget sheet if three of your most important employees aren't even listed!"

The buffalo grew silent. No word, lousy excuse, nor lie could shelter him from this inevitable wrath.

"You're bribing officers, aren't you?"

"What?!"

Judy gave him a bitter and disgusted look, all disguised under a face of betrayal and sadness.

"I can't believe it…Just when I thought you couldn't be more of a monster, you do this…"

Bogo slammed his fist onto the table, snapping Judy out of a gloomy emotional spell.

"Alright, you listen here, and you listen close, Judy. The things that I did, the choices I had to make…I did it for a reason. I did it to keep this station in one piece. I did it to spare the jobs of your colleagues. And if you think that you can fuck this up and dethrone me…Then you just chose to mess with the bull. What happens to the ones who mess with the bull?

" _They get the horns._ "

"I'm not scared of you, Bogo. Neither is Nick. Your threats are nothing but empty to us now; with that slip of paper, which I made a copy of for myself, we have more than enough evidence to derail you. On top of that, I have an entire list of officers who will gladly provide me with the information needed to prove you guilty. I'm going to leave you with this, Jasiri, before I pay a visit to Mayor Lionheart: Intimidate me all you want; Nick and I are going to serve you justice, _if it's the last thing we do._ "

Without saying another word, she hopped down from the chair that she sat on and glided out of the chief's office.

' _Nothing left to do but…But to go with Plan B._ '


	16. Plan B

"Did you get the carrots, Carrots?"

Silence.

"Hmm?" slowly mumbled Judy.

"Did you get the carrots?"

"Oh…No. I didn't. Sorry."

Drafting some mysterious note in her personal journal at her desk, Judy was plunged into a realm of personal space, closing the outside world.

"Alright…How was your day?" asked Nick, pleading that some fueled conversation could erupt.

"Fine…I guess?"

"Well, now since we can't make any carrot soup, I'll be sure to _not_ text you dinner suggestions. I can order a pizza if you'd like."

"Go for it," mumbled Judy.

Nick stretched his arms out and rolled himself out of the sea of messy sheets that were spilled across the bed, and slowly straddled to the landline phone that was on the desk beside her. A pair of now ruined and stretched spanks were wrapped around his waist. Judy didn't seem to notice them just yet.

"Do you know any places nearby that do delivery? Good places?"

Judy finally gave up on isolating herself and turned towards Nick, hoping a short and brittle conversation would be enough to shut him up. Seeing him wear her spanks, however, tugged at her curiosity. A look of disgust and confusion was painted on her face.

"Hey, don't blame me. My boxers were missing this morning, and I found a pair of your underwear by the bed. Have you seen them?"

Judy's cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"Erm…No. Sorry. I'll keep an eye out for them, though."

"…Judy? You're not stretching the truth, are you?"

"Nuh-uh. Sorry."

"Alright. Oh, what was that one pizza place you told me about a few weeks back…Damn, it's on the tip of my tongue: Corzone…no, Colzone...no, shoot. What was it, Carrots?"

" _Corleone_?"

"That's it! What's the number for it?"

"Uh…I don't know off the tip of my ears. You can probably Zoogle it, though."

"You're the boss," mumbled Nick as he began to chore his way to the phone in his pocket. A couple of taps and swipes later, the number for the nearby _Corleone_ pizza joint was right before him. Before he called the shop, Nick briefly scanned the reviews, hoping that Judy was right. Many of the Zoogle reviews gave a positive reflection and vibe on the store; enough to make Nick content with the pizza. Picking up the miniature landline, Nick cautiously used the tips of his claws to dial in the right number. He held his phone up to his left ear, but switched to his right after remembering the poor hearing quality associated with his left. A mammal picked up after the fourth buzz.

" _Corleone pizza off of Hemingway and Marquez, this is Phil. How can I help you?"_

"Hi Phil, I was looking to see if I could order a pizza for me and my girlfriend for this evening."

Judy's ears flicked upwards after hearing Nick's statement. She turned towards him, a look of terminal shock in her eyes. The look almost looked too unsettling for Nick.

" _Alright, will that be delivery or take-out?_ "

"Uh…Take out, please."

He could barely think with a look of surprise and what seemed to be concern on her face.

" _Can I get a phone number, sir?"_ said Phil with a grouchy voice.

"Give me one sec."

Cupping the microphone, Nick looked at Judy directly. The rabbit still looked perplexed.

"Carrots, what's your phone number?"

"Uhm…Nine six four, two nine four, sixteen sixty-nine."

Nick repeated the sequence to Phil, who was presumably slow to punch it in to some computer on the other side of the call. The delay made him wonder whether Phil was a sloth; perhaps Flash's son. As of recent, the fastest DMV employee has had energetic conversations about his son, who began a job in the restaurant business. That, however, was all that he could recall.

" _Alright, and your address?"_

Nick cupped the microphone again and turned towards Judy.

"Address?" he pleaded.

"Four twenty-two, suite three zero eight. Reed Street, Savanna Central," mumbled Judy.

Nick fed the information to Phil, who took another length spread of time to dial it all in. Ironically, he didn't ask for any repeats or confirmations of the information.

" _Alright, what would you like this evening, sir?_ "

Without much effort, Nick recalled the pizza order that he had in mind. Knowing Judy's borderline obsession with carrots (which he loathed) and his desire for tofu (which _she_ despised of), Nick figured a large pie, split with the two toppings, should raise no question between the two of them. Oh, and the barbeque sauce; it wouldn't be a Nick-and-Judy styled pizza without their favorite condiment.

"Alright, can we get a large cheese pizza? Top it off with carrots, a snippet of barbeque sauce, and half with tofu."

" _Any drinks or deserts for you tonight?_ "

"Just a liter of cola with it, please; that will be all for us."

Phil repeated Nick's order as if he was reciting it from some instruction manual; the monotone voice was somewhat difficult and cringe-worthy to listen to.

"Yes, that's correct."

" _Alright, your total will be twelve-fifty. We should have your order delivered in forty-five minutes or so._ "

"Alright, bye now."

Nick hung up, relieved to have finally cut the line of communication with such a nauseous worker. He looked back at Judy, who still had a peculiar look of complexion on her face.

"What?" asked Nick.

Judy sighed. Her eyes slowly began to trace a path towards the ground.

"Look, Nick, I appreciate what you said back then; willingly able to call me your girlfriend is nice, but the last thing I want to do is _pressure_ you into this whole relationship; many days, I feel like I forced us together. It just doesn't feel healthy, nor does it feel natural."

"Okay…? I'm not really catching on with what you're saying."

Judy took a sharp breath.

"What do you want us to be, Nick? I remember you saying, many weeks ago, that you don't want to take a risk with a relationship in fear of a spoiled friendship, but here you are, sleeping with me for the past month! I want to love you, and I want to be with you…But what about yourself? If this is not what you wanted…If you just did this to make me feel better, I understand; but I should only do whatever makes you happy."

"J-Judy, are you serious? Of course I love you! What, do you think that what happened four weeks ago was just a one night stand or something? Look," he said while setting the phone aside and taking a knee, allowing his muzzle to be at her height, "Remember back when I was still in the hospital, and you came to see me?"

"I…I think so."

"Well, I remember very clearly that when I saw that you spent the night in my room, just to make sure I was okay…"

He grasped her paw and held it like a delicate ornament.

"That was when I realized that I was in love with you. Never before have I encountered any mammal, shape or size, who has loved for me and cared for me as much as you have. Seeing you in the hospital was one of the sweetest things anyone's ever done. Heck, my mother didn't even get to visit me until I was almost due out of the hospital! It's truly a gift, to spend every living second in your warmth and joy; what did I ever do to deserve you?"

Judy smirked, finally showing a smile for the first time in what felt like ages.

"So whatever you do, don't let anything shame you for what we are. Love is love; doesn't matter the species, gender, age… It may be a big step to show something like this in public, but I promise you that there is no shame within it."

"You promise?"

"I promise. I'd stick a needle in my eye if I were lying to you!"

Judy giggled.

"Now, let's take a deep breath and set aside any worries regarding this relationship and work. I can see you had a bad day, so let's change it around."

"I suppose so…"

"I have an idea: While the pizza is on its way, you should probably start packing, yeah? Bogo did say that the event will be formal."

"Uh, okay. And you are positive you're all packed?"

"You're probably right. Just let me know if I should pack anything special."

"Like what?"

"I don't know! What did you pack in that giant suitcase? Surely your entire wardrobe doesn't fit in there," she exclaimed while pointing to his nearly overloaded suitcase sitting by the door.

"I'm a man of character; foxes need many clothes, Carrots. Just bring what you think you need!"

"Well, does the Palm Casino have a pool?"

"Oh yeah. One of the best pools you'll ever swim in."

"Alright, I'll get my suit. How big is the pool?"

Nick looked straight into her eyes, almost wanting her to stroke his muzzle; it was one of his favorite feelings in the world.

" _Huge._ They even have a waterslide!"

"Now I'm even more excited!"

"Only one more night, my love," hushed Nick while stroking Judy's face.

"Are you sure that you don't want to enter in the tournament? Bogo said it's not too late, you know. Census deadline is an hour before the first deal. Oh, and I can still teach you how to play! You're much smarter than I am, I know you can learn it before the tournament," he added.

"I'm pretty sure. Poker just wouldn't be my lucky game…It just doesn't intrigue me. If it was blackjack on the other hand…"

"Alright, if you insist. Just keep in mind that you'll probably watch us play poker for six hours tomorrow night, six hours the night after that, and six hours the night after that! It may get boring…"

"Watching you never gets boring, Nick."

"Oh, you're milking it. Get packing, you!" he said while gently slugging her arm.

Judy began a slow walk to her dresser, hoping to find a few formal dresses to wear that would complement the triplet set of tuxedos that would presumably accompany Nick.

"So you said it was Fangmeyer's idea for this welcome back party?" Nick asked.

"Yeah. I once told her that you are a real fan of poker, and I suppose she just put two and two together, relaying that information to Bogo. In all honesty, I'm surprised that he took on such an idea; renting out a few tables for the tournament doesn't seem like something the chief would do. He always lectures about how the ZPD can't be playing games. Oh, and especially since the strain being put on him because of the whole assault, screwing around seems like the last thing he'd want to do."

"Speaking of screwing around, do you really think that he's bribing officers so that they will stay quiet?"

"Positive. Remember that sheet I brought home a while back?"

"Oh, right."

"If my suspicions are correct and he uses any winnings to bribe more officers, then we'll know about it. Lionheart emailed me yesterday that the city's secret service will now not only monitor the game, but will have an arrest warrant on hand if anything gets suspicious."

"Why can't they just arrest the damn bastard right now? I seriously have doubts that the dude can get away with such a crime; surely there has to be enough evidence."

"The guy's smart, he's worked here long enough; if he wants the city to believe something is true, he could do it. It's quite scary. Oh, and don't call me surely."

"Good lord, Jude."

Judy giggled.

"I'll pick up the place if you want to continue packing," added Nick.

"Sure! Just- just let me know if you don't know where something goes."

The sly fox and the dumb bunny began shuffling around the cramped apartment, transforming the disorganized space into something that resembled an apartment. With every crumb swept up and every sock tucked into a suitcase, the entropy of the home began to slowly vanish. During the whole ordeal, neither Nick nor Judy spoke once to each other; although the atmosphere had a positive vibe attached to it, no conversation was necessary to propel the young love into anything new or undesired. Simply being with each other was all they could need while work was being done. Many times, simplifying the complex formula of love requires silence, not words.

That is, until Judy couldn't help but to pipe up.

"Wouldn't it be nice, Nick?"

It took Nick, who was gently making the disorganized bed, to look up and notice that Judy was speaking to him.

"What's that?"

She stopped packing, as her workload began to diminish.

"I was just saying that it would be really nice if we could just live together…Even though I had my doubts, my inner child told me that these past four weeks have taught me that you belong with me. Out of all the animals in this city, you are the only one who I could spend the rest of my life with."

Nick chuckled, and he slowly waltzed up to the blushing rabbit.

"Well, this entire time that we were cleaning has allowed me to formulate something I think you'll like."

"What's that?"

He gently stroked her cheeks and looked straight into her soft and warm eyes. Her beauty struck him with so much awe that he nearly lost his train of thought.

"Well, I've been thinking about what we could do with our winnings. And I know this may seem quick, but I've always pictured us just… _getting away_ for a little while. We would just retreat and spend a few days, perhaps a few weeks, just somewhere far off. Just the two of us, and nobody else."

"Where would we go?"

"Good question…I've thought of exotic places, resorts, adventurous destinations…I suppose it all depends on what we take home from the tournament! Hell, we could roam the most exotic parts of Africa or take a first-class trip to BunnyBurrow. Whatever our budget would allow us!"

"Oh, Nick, that sounds lovely! It really does! But…Don't you still have medical treatments to worry about? Shouldn't that be our first priority so you can move back in to your place?"

"Who gives a damn about my apartment when I have you? Hell, I can just sell the damn place if we are going to live together! We've been doing it for several weeks; moving back would just be cold, dark, and quite lonely."

"Well, you're not wrong there, Mr. Wilde."

"So what do you say? Are you in?"

Judy leaped up and planted a firm and passionate kiss onto his lips while grabbing ahold of his muzzle. She then dropped back down and gave him a childlike, bashful smile.

"I'll take that as a yes," chuckled Nick, who already had rosy-pink cheeks.

"You know me too well."

"Alright, Carrots, let's finish this before another _session_ suddenly happens. How's that packing doing?"

"Well, I'm mostly there…What time is it?"

Nick glanced at the alarm clock behind him.

"Looks like…Ten to five."

"I should be done before five. What do you say that after this damn pizza gets here, we just relax for the rest of the evening?"

"Works for me."

Judy and Nick finished their respective chores, making sure that the apartment was suitable enough for a four-night departure. All Judy could hope for was that she could leave behind the trauma and stress associated with work alongside her belongings. When completing the final touches on her packing, she ran the tips of her fingers around the apartment, hoping that finding some sort of attachment to her home would act as a stress remedy. The gesture didn't seem to catch the attention of Nick, who began to make borderline unnecessary maintenance on her apartment by doing a thorough cleaning of the window. No amount of scrubbing would allow any more light to bleed into the studio. Judy rolled her suitcase towards the door, besides Nick's beat and worn-out companion. She was mesmerized at how it somehow managed to stay together with the amount of damage that it had, combined with what seemed like a maximum capacity.

"Hey, Nick?" she piped after finishing her duties.

"What's up, Carrots?"

"I'm done…Do you want to maybe watch a movie while we wait for the pizza to arrive?"

The fox stopped cleaning the window and turned around. His orange-red fur caught fire with the sunlight; it only seemed to amplify his gusto and his beauty.

"What kind of movie do you have in mind?" he asked.

"Probably something short…Have you ever seen Meowana?"

"Didn't that just recently come out? And no, I have not seen it."

"Well, I was able to get the DVD recently! You up for watching that?"

"Eh, why not? We have nothing better to do."

"Alright, just make yourself comfy and I'll set us up."

Within minutes, the couple was snuggling into each other's arms; their backs shared a pillow that prevented them from leaning against a cold, barren brick wall. As time continued to drag on, the sun overhead slowly began to diminish and fade away. As it lingered on the horizon, it painted thousands upon thousands of shadows across the buildings, many of which casted an admirable view from the apartment. While watching the film (which Judy became heavily involved in), Nick found himself drifting to the fragile beauty of the city, which told its own story in some bizarre way. Judy didn't seem to notice his distraction, for the warmth of his body and the soft, orange and cream fur of his arms and body was all she could ask for.

Just as the last rays of light were swallowed with either the invasive, alien-like light or the darkness that bubbled around the city, a faint but pronounced knock echoed throughout the apartment. Judy abruptly tapped the space bar on the computer, resting a few feet in front of them on the bed.

"Must be the pizza man," she said.

"I'll get it."

Nick leaped out of bed and casually strolled to the doorway. Looking through the safety class, some teenage wombat dressed in a messy and disordered uniform was awaiting at the door. Thank goodness it wasn't Phil. Nick then opened the lock and was immediately greeted with the mouth-watering scent of pizza.

"Evening, sir," said the wombat in a high-pitched, rather unpleasant tone.

"Good evening. I take it that this is the pizza."

"Mhm. Let me see…"

He reached into his back pocket, holding a socket of pies in the other hand, and pulled out a crumbled receipt.

"So, I have just a single large cheese pizza with carrots, barbeque, and half tofu. Is that correct?" he said.

"Yeah, sounds good to us!"

"Alright, here is that pizza for you," he said while opening the sleeve and handing Nick a warm box that held the pizza, "And I'm just going to need that twelve dollars and fifty cents for that."

Nick began to take his wallet out of his back pocket; a hesitant murmur from the back of the room nearly halted his train of thought. He turned around to see Judy looking rather tense and hesitant. She was twiddling with her thumbs, but no words nor gestures were exchanged between the two. After a couple moments of confusion, Nick could do nothing but blankly assume that she was offering to pay.

"I've got it, Carrots, don't worry."

He slipped out fifteen dollars from his wallet, constructed from a ten and a five.

"Keep the change," added Nick.

"Oh, well thank you, sir!" the wombat exclaimed.

"No problem, enjoy your evening."

"You too!"

Nick gently closed the door on the pizza man and carried the pie to the bed. Interestingly, Judy continued to hold a look of confusion and worry.

"You don't need to repay me, Carrots. This one is on me."

"That's not what I was trying to say…You forgot the soda, you dork!"

A mini heart-attack rebooted Nick's nerves when he realized that Judy was right. The liter of soda that he ordered for the two to split was nowhere to be found. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know that Nick didn't mention the soda, which was likely in the car of a wombat driving back to work.

"Damn, you're right. But hell, who needs soda? It's not even healthy for us. He probably left it in the car anyway."

"Says the one who ordered carrots on half the pizza!"

Judy slugged his arm.

"Hey, a little extra sugar won't hurt!"

"Say that to me in twenty years when your bunny has a case of type two diabetes."

"You're milking it again, sweetheart," mumbled Nick.

The rabbit and the fox ate in relative silence; a consequence of not eating the entire day, their bodies were craving large masses of food. Nick managed to wolf down his entire half of pizza, garnished with the tofu, in no more than ten minutes. Judy, on the other hand, managed to migrate her way through most of her half at around the same time. Only short breaths were shared between the two as they ate and watched the movie. By the time the entire pie was finished, only a quarter of an hour had surpassed.

"Money well spent, huh?" remarked Judy at the end of the meal.

"You can say that again."

Nick took the box, now littered with grease stains and bread crumbs, and slowly carried it over to the nearby waste pin, giving extra caution to not spill any crumbs.

"You sure you don't want me to pay you back?"

"Pssh, don't worry about it. If anything is going to pay you back, it's Bogo."

Judy giggled.

"Speaking of which, are you one hundred percent positive that he is covering the costs for our room? If the dude is really in financial turmoil, then that would seem like the last thing he would want to do."

"Yeah! Word got around that he took out some loan from the bank to help pay for rooms for the officers that are participating. Now I'm no expert on financing, but something tells me that taking out a loan will only make him go even more crazy with the money. Who knows; that buffalo has been slowly going insane these past few months."

"Very true."

Nick pulled out his phone, frustratingly trying to scroll through an onslaught of emails.

"By the way, did you get any email regarding what the plan is for the event? Because either I didn't get the email, or I must have deleted it some time ago with some degree of negligence."

"Yeah, I saved it somewhere. I think it's somewhere beside our reservations…" she mumbled while walking pausing the movie and switching to her email.

With a few quick type-ins and clicks, a message was right before both her and Nick. He grabbed her right shoulder and gently began massaging it, hoping to rub out any of the leftover stress that she had within her.

"So, it looks like we can check in anytime between nine in the morning and five in the evening tomorrow," mumbled Judy.

"We're staying in the same room, right?"

"That's what I have us planned for, as long as you're okay with it."

"No, Carrots, I'm not okay with it," piped Nick with a sarcastic tone.

"You…You're not?"

The concern and fear in Judy's voice punched Nick in the gut.

"No, no! I was just kidding! Of course, we're going to be in the same room! I'd be upset if we couldn't even _sleep in the same bed_!"

"Gosh, don't scare me like that again, Nick!"

Now the fox rubbed the strain and tension out of both of her shoulders. She did feel very wound up and strained. Her loose, yellow t-shirt didn't seem to help him with a deep shoulder massage. The fabric shielded his paws from rubbing the source of her frustration out of her tissues.

"I'm sorry, Carrots! I just couldn't help myself! You know you love me…"

A sweet and bashful look greeted Nick as he turned around.

"Do I know that? Of course I do."

Nick paused the shoulder massage and the two shared a sweet kiss.

" _This is the Casablanca Federal Center Station. Next stop, the Palm Hotel and Casino_ " cried a monotone female voice over the subway intercom.

"Well, that's our stop," said Judy.

"Indeed, it is."

With their suitcases in one hand and their paws interlocked in the other, Judy and Nick began to shuffle their way through a crowd of miscellaneous mammals to the nearest exit of the train station in preparation to get off at the next stop smoothly and efficiently. The chore became somewhat easier as an army of business professionals, all dressed in suits and ties, flooded the corridors and escaped the train. A few other animals began boarding, but were vastly outnumbered by the escaping passengers. By the time Judy and Nick reached the corridors of their car, they closed and the train began to reaccelerate. Despite the heaping number of sharply-dressed animals that departed at the last station, the vast majority of the population remaining in the car had a business jacket on them. Judy and Nick almost felt underdressed, with the two of them dressed for a summer's day in paradise.

As the train picked up speed, the cars were tossed to the side by minute forces, causing Judy to plummet into Nick's body. Luckily for Nick, he had the support of a pole to prevent him from being tossed.

"Sorry!" giggled Judy after she regained her balance.

"You don't need to be sorry, Carrots. I like it when yo-"

Another shuffle in the train tracks sent Judy straight into Nick's abdomen.

"Well, apparently, the train wants us to stick together, yeah?" he trailed.

"Heh, I guess so!"

Nick tucked his suitcase in a large gap beside the door, and wrapped his free arm around Judy's waist.

She smelled nice.

The high whistling and the occasional rattling of the train began to slow down when the cars began decelerating once again. After getting on the train, they have stopped at over eight different stations that snaked through Savanna Central, a little bit of downtown, and Sahara Square. Despite what would seem to be such a long trek, the journey was completed rather efficiently; fifteen minutes have gone by since they boarded the train back towards the station around the corner from Judy's (and Nick's) apartment. This journey took them towards the center of the city, to the urban stadium, through Paw Street, and by the nearby financial center, to name a few. But now, the train was beginning to slow down for the ninth and final time before the couple would get off the train. Finally.

As the train began to crawl along, it escaped a tunnel of darkness, being spat out into the warm of light. Although carved into the ground, the station was able to receive a fair share of sunlight, and was a completely outdoor station. Flourished with palm trees, fountains, and Arabic culture, it was one of Judy's favorite stations.

" _This is the Palm Hotel and Casino. Next stop, Rabat beach."_

The train came to a jarring halt, and the doors hissed open. As Judy and Nick glided down the stairs and into the borough, a blast of warm, dry air blasted their fur. The smell of sea salt and foliage complemented the atmosphere. As Judy and Nick embraced the beautiful weather, the idea of vacation and relaxation finally began to sit in.

"Alright, onwards!" cried Nick.

Hand in hand, the fox and the bunny slowly began to work their way over to the gigantic, synthetic palm tree that withheld what would be a relaxing and enjoyable time off of work.

"How much is there left?"

The muffled voice over the telephone proved to have dissatisfying results.

"Bloody hell! Check again; I've double, no- _triple-checked_ my spreadsheets and papers; I still should have a balance of one thousand in the checking account."

The voice on the other line said otherwise; Jasiri's checking had dipped below zero several days ago. The only value tagged with his now suspended account was a balance of negative seven hundred and eighty-four dollars.

"Well, where the fuck did all that money go?!" he screamed into the speaker, "As the police chief of this city, I demand that I know where these funds went to! Because they sure as hell didn't go into the _overtime paychecks_ that I gave my employees. Now either find the source or I'll launch an entire fucking investigation myself, damn it!"

As the bashed accountant tried again to find the source of the missing money, Bogo checked his desk again, searching for any missing papers that would interfere with Plan B. All that there was to be seen was dozens of spreadsheets of finance and employee information, loan information, a passport, hair dye, a bottle of whiskey, and a set of pens scattered about his desk.

The voice returned, this time with some more informative news.

"Seriously? _Seventeen hundred_ dollars is eighty percent of the fucking treatment? Is this a joke?"

" _No."_

Jasiri's boiled blood resulted in the hotel landline phone being tossed across the room in an improvised fit of rage. The plastic shattered like glass and left an imprint on the dry wall beside his bed. All that was left of the phone once the chaos settled down was what must have been hundreds of plastic shards and a kinked telephone cord, all attached to a totaled landline box.

"God damn it, the chief mumbled to himself."

He knew that the tournament would be his last chance at redemption; the one narrow slot he had resided in the sole arrangement of playing cards. A dash of luck would be his last resort, but only if he was lucky; unfortunately for Jasiri, card games would never be in his favor. In blackjack, spades, bridge, and poker, his deals and hands would almost always disappoint him.

Out of nowhere, however, an idea struck him that could help Plan B work. It was a longshot, but if he planned it out just right – and executed it perfectly – then perhaps this whole ordeal would be over by the time he walks away with any of his winnings, the day after tomorrow. An instinct brought his hand towards the landline phone that was no longer present; groaning, the buffalo dug through his suitcase for his phone. After a quick Zoogle search and a sketch of some phone number, he dialed in what could be the most important phone call in years. An employee on the other line picked up in the middle of the second ring.

"Hi, yes, how much is a flight to the Canary Islands?...Yes, transfers are fine…One way, please…Yes, that is correct. From Zootopia International…Okay. Is there a flight leaving the day after tomorrow?...Fantastic, ten-thirty at night should work…How much?...Okay, would it be possible to place one ticket on hold for Wednesday evening? Perhaps I could pick it up at the airport?...Uh, no. I would prefer to pay for it over there, please…Could you?...Fantastic! My name is Jasiri Bogo…That's J-A-S-I-R-I…Date of birth is February tenth, nineteen fifty-two…Great…Where should I pick it up?...Any kiosk?...Fantastic, I'll be there…Oh, by the way, would it be okay to pay in cash?...Cash?...Fantastic, I'll be there before nine…Alright, bye now."

Jasiri took a deep breath and stretched his arms backwards. All he needed was three hundred and sixty dollars in the next three days; even with unfavorable odds carrying his weight, there was a high likelihood that if he played conservatively and carefully, then getting as much as four hundred would be a walk in the park. The thought eased Jasiri's mind. After finishing the stretch, he went back to work, dismissing any of the forged documents.

A calligraphic hand was some unnatural talent that he seemed to possess since he was a young child. Yet never before has he done a maneuver so risky and so controversial. But it needed to be done. If his stroke deviated by even the slightest millimeter, then he would be caught. If any bit of information looked to be slightly incorrect, then he would be caught. If he didn't act like this made-up person, then he would be caught.

Jasiri briefly stood up and closed the curtains in his hotel room, obstructing the morning light and a view of Savanna Central and Outback Island in the process. The sunlight was just a distraction; he wouldn't need it to finish the task.

He slowly went back to his chair and continued to scribble in details to the fake passport.


	17. Firth of Third: Movement One

_**Movement One: What Goes On**_

"You really can't beat that view, can you?"

"It's so relaxing…"

"And pretty."

"Just like you, my dear," smirked Nick.

"Oh, stop it!"

"I'm serious!"

The view in question was the portrait painted by the windows of room 805 of the Palm hotel. Even without a balcony, the two have been awestruck at the view of the city any time they took a glance.

Judy was right. It was a view that could not be beat.

Their room withheld a picturesque view of downtown Zootopia and the four boroughs that wrapped around it like a blanket. Each tower seemed so minuscule from their hotel room – like an army of weak and pathetic toothpicks – despite their knowledge of the grand size and everlasting complexity of these buildings. All across the wild, diverging skyline of the city, many more of these towers worked their ways upward, trying to outcompete the foundations of their buildings below. A few skyscrapers pierced the turbulent winds of TundraTown, while the challenging heights of the canopies in the Rainforest District flirted with some of the tallest structures that coexisted in Savanna Central and Sahara Square. The Palm outcompeted anything that attempted to rival it within the blistering heat in the desert, consequently giving Nick and Judy an incredible treasure to take in with their eyes.

As Judy continued to soak in the city's beauty, her nose was planted to the two-inch layer of glass that cradled her from what would have been certain death by a fatal plunge. The concept tossed a chill down her spine. Her eyes soon followed, and she was eventually studying the ground below them, which must have been at least eight hundred feet underneath their feet. Although barely visible, her sharp eyes were able to catch a distinct feature that made her smile. A sharp shade of turquoise blue shimmered right below her. It was nothing else but the pool. The pool that they spent the past couple of hours in, swimming, diving, and splashing in the gentle waves. It was quite a relief; the sun was baking them throughout the first several hours spent in Sahara Square.

"What time is it?" asked Nick.

"Uh…Ten to five. But my watch may be a minute behind."

"We should probably get ready, yeah?"

"Why? The tournament doesn't start until seven! We still have a couple of hours!"

Nick pulled Judy in close towards him.

"But what if I want to take my favorite rabbit to a little pre-game dinner?"

"Where? Here at the hotel's restaurant?"

"No, we're going to go to your parents' house for dinner," moaned a sarcastic Nick.

"Oh, shut up!"

"We do have reservations for five thirty at the Al-Fayoum restaurant. That should give us about an hour and a half to have a nice dinner before we head to the tables. How does that sound to you?"

"It sounds lovely! It…It really does!"

"Well, I say that we get ready then!"

And so the two did as Nick requested. With brief intermissions of giggles and horseplay, they each got ready for what would be a very elegant and formal night. After all, the dinner that Nick planned was only part of what the entire evening would be filled of: refreshing drinks, relaxing music, and above all, the poker game itself. Judy, from the moment she heard about it, began daydreaming about the game in its entirety. _What would Nick be able to pull off? How long will each game last? How secure will the game be? Is anyone, including us, in danger?_

Nick went through some similar thought experiments, drawing connections to the dreams that he had from many weeks ago, which almost seems to be coming true right before his eyes. He can still piece together some of the biggest takeaways from that dream.

… _was walking alongside Judy, who was wearing a beautiful, lavish purple dress. Hoping for a fun-filled evening, he led her to the poker tables to play his favorite card game: Texas Hold'em. Nick was a relatively lucky fox; he got powerful hands quite often. Combined with his expert yet sly poker face and tell tactics, Nick could not only invest several hundred dollars into one hand; he could also put other animals' fear in the pot. Being a fox has its benefits._

 _Before the two joined a table that was about to begin, Nick recalled Judy backing out at the last minute, choosing to spectate the match instead of joining in. She justified that she was never into gambling and wished to not get involved. They decided to sit at the right-hand side of the table, with Judy bookending the table. Nick could recall the faces of four others at the table (all to the left of him): Mr. Big, Clawhauser, Mayor Lionheart, and finally Chief Bogo (respectively), sitting directly in front of him._

 _'_ _In poker, you never play your hand,' his mother once taught him, 'You play against the animal across from you'…_

The striking similarities between the two scenarios spooked him: all he could squander about was the idea of the environment and behavior of everyone in his dream unfolding. It almost seemed like an impossible possibility, with their boss slowly going insane and almost the entire squadron of police officers participating in the tournaments as well. It was an odd coincidence…if that is what he should call it.

"Hello? You alive?"

Judy seemed to snap him out of his deep, malicious thoughts back into reality.

"W-what did you say?" he asked.

"You seemed to be lost in your own thoughts, mister!"

"Oh…yeah. Sorry about that."

"You wanna talk about it?"

"Uhm…"

Nick glanced at Judy, who looked increasingly innocent and gentile with her dreamy face and her small, stuffed body tucked into a bath robe.

"It's nothing. But thanks for asking," he briefly spit out.

"Nick…Why do I not believe you?"

"It's nothing, Jude. I insist."

Judy gave a bitterly disappointing at Nick. Her productivity stalled, and with her stature and attitude, Nick realized that she was not going to finish getting ready until he confessed what was going on. He took a deep sigh and hoped to dissolve the concern.

"It's just that there was a dream I had a while ago that was very similar to this whole poker tournament, so it just weirded me out for a bit."

"Mkay. Still not convinced."

"Bogo and some of the other guys from the station were in it. Bogo looked mentally deranged like he does today, and the fact that such a bizarre dream was coming true right in front of me somewhat spooked me."

"What happened during the game? Do you remember?"

"All I can remember is that during one of the turns, he did some bluff when I had a strong hand, and I won the pot because of that. It's seriously all that I can remember."

"Well, let's hope that he makes the same mistake one of these three nights, yeah?"

"Pssh, no kidding," mumbled Nick as he squirted a dollop of toothpaste onto his brush.

After standing in front of the bathroom counter for a while, the two got changed into what would be their clothes for the evening. Although hesitant to Judy's suggestion, Nick agreed that they would be able to change in the same room; after all, they would be sleeping together as they did for many weeks. What was there to be weird?

The first time Nick got a look at Judy, when she stepped out of the bathroom after finishing touches, his pupils shrank to mere micrometers; she was absolutely astonishing. A purple dress that perfectly matched the color of her eyes draped across her entire body, showing a small amount of cleavage. With a face touched up with just a little bit of make-up and a pair of tall heels, and she looked like a princess. It was a potent and powerful privilege to look at her like she was.

"You…You look beautiful, Judy!"

"Thank you! You're quite handsome, yourself!"

Nick straightened his bowtie.

"Well, I say we head down and grab a bite of food. How does that sound?"

"Let's go!" she said with a pair of sugar lips.

"I'll have a…Virgin Mary, please."

"Virgin…Mary. Mkay, how about for you, sir?" asked the waiter.

"I'll take a whiskey-soda, on the rocks please."

"Do you have an ID on you, sir?"

Nick swiftly pulled out his wallet from his back left pocket and proudly presented his driver's license to the Gila monster, who looked like he was to question Nick's age. But a quick inspection of Nick's ID was enough to convince the waiter that he was old enough.

"Alright, thank you. I'll have those out for you two very shortly," said the Gila monster, before sliding his way back towards the bar.

Judy and Nick felt like they were bathed in luxury while sitting at the Al-Fayoum restaurant. Despite covering about a quarter of the hotel's ground floor, the restaurant was quite a feat of engineering and design. Nick was awestruck at the amounts of lush vegetation that surrounded them; even with the two of them tucked in a private booth on one corner the restaurant, delivering them a view of downtown, date palms and vines garnished the atmosphere that hung just slightly above their heads. It was quite a magical yet mystical experience. It was almost as if the two were transported into the exotics of the Middle East.

"See, I told you that dinner here would be a great idea!" joked Nick.

"Well, you weren't kidding when you said this place would be nice."

"You look beautiful, by the way."

"Stop it, you! I don't look that great…"

"Carrots, stop it! Look at yourself! You're _gorgeous!_ "

Nick really did mean it. Judy's purple dressed complemented her crowning jewels that were her two eyes. Lavished with a perfect layer of eyelash and lipstick, she held the aesthetic beauty that Nick always knew she had. It so happened to be that this very night it would shine at its very brightest.

"You're just saying that," blushed Judy.

"Believe whatever you want; I just want to point out that with your beauty monitoring me from the sidelines, many of the players I'll be competing against will be more focused on your curves than their cards…"

"Oh, brother. By the way, your bowtie is a little bit crooked."

Nick straightened his green bowtie, a touch he added last-minute to his tuxedo before they came down to the restaurant just a little earlier.

"Thank you."

The candlelit experience started with the arrival of their drinks. The Gila Monster arrived shortly after, prepared with the two drinks that the couple asked for just a few moments ago.

"Here's that whiskey for you, sir," he said while guiding the glass down towards Nick's plate. The soda looked incredibly refreshing to the fox; not only did the bubbles float their way around the golden liquid suspended in the glass, but the ice cubes that were bathed in it helped to wrap the glass in an opaque yet satisfying layer of condensated water. In terms of an ideal drink, Nick couldn't have had it any better.

"Thank you!" he said with a watery mouth.

The waiter then guided Judy's alcohol-free drink towards her. The orange-red liquid was enclosed within a margarita glass, gently yet viscously floating within it. A slice of cucumber kissed the rim of the glass, and a carrot polished off the garnishments by hugging the other side of the rim. Such a delicacy reminded Judy that cooking was a form of art comparable to music or painting; it required expertise, practice, and technique to get it right.

"Are we ready to order?" asked the Gila.

Nick and Judy exchanged a look of uncertainty in their eyes, still contemplating whether they were ready or not. As a matter of fact, they were fixed on each other so much since they sat down that deciphering a menu was all but impossible.

"Just give us a couple more minutes, if you wouldn't mind," remarked Nick.

"Will do, sir. Please, take all the time you need."

As the lizard straddled away towards the bar, Nick peeled the menu open, searching for some delicacy that would catch his eye – and his appetite.

"I find it kind of odd how I was so fixed to you since we got here that I haven't even had the time to open my menu!"

"You're too adorable, Nick. I mean it."

The fox chuckled as they continued to decipher their menus.

Another three and a half minutes later or so, the lizard returned, with a pen and notepad in hand.

"Alright, are we ready to order now?"

"You know, I think we are! Ladies first, go ahead Judy."

Judy ordered a typical dish; a garnished farmer's plate of veggies. It wasn't anything special: a few carrots, a side of dates, celery, potato slices, and broccoli.

By god, Nick _hated_ the smell and taste of broccoli.

His order was nothing out of the ordinary, either. Thanks to his carnivorous instincts, a diet of protein was calling his name. After choosing his options carefully, Nick finally decided on a swordfish meal, backed with celery and carrots. The swordfish was a meal he seldom ate; from what he could recall, the delicious taste of the seafood only came in contact with his palate no more than five times in his life. Enjoying it for a sixth time made his stomach growl and his mouth water even more. Not even the strong and biting taste of the whiskey could wash that hunger away.

Within a short thirty minutes and three drinks later, their meals arrived. Nick's muzzle could detect the sharp and distinctive odor of the swordfish. He grew excited upon realizing its impending arrival; his visual cues prompted Judy to prepare for her meal as well. She didn't have any preparation for her meal; vegetables did not have much of a scent she could catch. Not even cooked vegetables stood out in her nostrils.

The two ate in relative silence, enjoying the peaceful and relaxing atmosphere of the hotel while doing so. The gentle sound of jazz music floated in and out of their ears; no live band was present, yet the sound felt so authentic and acoustic. The candle, suspended on the back wall of their booth, gently danced with the gentle torque of the winds going by. The flame would gallop in all directions, cascading into several shapes and patters at various speeds. Topped with the whitewashed smell of the sea and the natural beauty within the restaurant, Nick could finally soak in what felt like peace and relaxation – borderline paradise – in several months. Being stuck in an apartment, a hospital bed, or in a dirty, run-down police station grew nauseating after just a few months. The striking contrast of luxury brought within him a nirvana of comfort. It was a peace that he wanted to keep with him for the rest of the trip.

After dinner was complete, a task that didn't last much longer than an hour, the two took a casual stroll to the casino, which shared an equal calm and relaxing atmosphere. It didn't take long before they spotted several of their coworkers waltzing into what looked to be a private playing room. The large casino, which took up around two-thirds of the ground floor, would be no match to this private playing room. Upon entering the casino, it was clear to see Clawhauser and Bogo entering a corridor towards the back of the circular-shaped casino, directly in front of them. The two made a break and hustled towards the room, only to be greeted by a security guard.

"Good evening, you two. Are you here for the ZPD poker tournament?"

"Yes, we are," confidently remarked Judy.

"Would you mind me seeing your badges?"

At second nature, the fox and the rabbit pulled their badges out like it was second nature. Doing it almost simultaneously made it an almost amusing coincidence. The guard, an old polar bear, granted them access down what would be a single flight of stairs.

At the bottom of the stairs, the two had to briefly go through a metal detector; not a minor inconvenience, but it did require the removal of a few articles of jewelry from Judy. Upon stepping inside the wide open game room, the aesthetic beauty and nature of it nearly took Nick's breath away. He had to remind himself constantly that he would be playing in here for the next three nights.

Many of the contestants arrived much earlier than expected. Clawhauser, Fangmeyer, and Delgado, each wearing lavish and luxurious tuxedos and dresses were all scattered about the room, which wasn't much bigger than a conventional dining room. Many other guests – including girlfriends, wives, friends – joined some of the contestants.

The centerpiece of the room was a gigantic poker table. The crisp, redwood that garnished the table and its six seats complemented the soft, green leather which could suspend playing cards almost in midair. Like a perfectly grooved lawn, Nick gazed at it with amazement, having never seen such professionalism go into a poker table. He could imagine cards gliding across the fabric to his paws. All of the chips that he would need for that evening were already set in place. The pumped adrenaline coursed through his body, making him grow tense yet excited.

Judy slipped in from his left and grabbed his paw; the move nearly caught him by surprise.

"You ready?" she asked.

"Uh, yeah! I'm just startled at how amazing this place is."

The two slowly walked towards the table, which was slowly beginning to fill with the players. The bar, which was towards the back of the room, would be an ideal place for Judy to sit, according to Nick's thoughts. Figuring that they would want to be relatively close to each other, Nick selected the empty seat that horned around the loop of the poker table. He was, by far, the closest player to Judy.

One by one, each of the six seats began to fill up. The order appeared to be random, yet it seemed to coincide with what Nick could recall from his dream. Sitting right across from him, probably ten feet away or so, was Chief Bogo. The look on his face seemed innocent and pure, but an inspection of his eyes and his physical shape reminded Nick of how broken and insane this buffalo, once his role model, had become. It gave him chills to think about how real this dream was, despite his fading memory of it.

By the time everyone took their seats, some with a few light drinks at hand, the dealer of the game joined the table. He was an average-looking camel, dressed in the fancy attire that every other employee was in.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to this poker tournament held by the ZPD. As you all know, each player has a buy-in of one thousand, five-hundred dollars presented before them. We will be playing conventional Texas Hold'em poker, with the last man alive being the winner of this tournament, a potential of nine thousand dollars.

"These seating arrangements will remain constant through the rest of the tournament, and swapping seats with other players will not be allowed. If anyone wishes to trade seats, they may do so now. Cheating is neglected upon the players of the game and the casino itself. Anyone found guilty of cheating during the game will be automatically removed from the tournament, without the possibility of their buy-in being refunded. Criminal charges may also ensure.

"Each night will consist of about five hours of the game and will be played from seven at night until midnight of the same evening. Contestants must show up to all three nights in order to be eligible for the winnings unless excused by the casino.

"And without any further redo, we shall commence the evening's events. Are there any questions regarding the game that I can answer for you tonight?"

The sharp, British-like tone of the camel was somewhat pleasant for Nick to listen to, and the silence that followed hung heavy in the air. No questions were asked.

"Alright then," said the camel while shuffling a deck of cards, "Let us begin then."

Nick turned around and looked at Judy, winking at her once eye contact was made between the two.

"Four players," called the dealer.

Clawhauser, who was squeamish yet professional for most of the night, and Delgado, a mammal that never spoke one word, were the first two to fold after the pre-flop. Four hours into the tournament (including a short thirty-minute break), and the tournament did not yield any astounding hands. The highest to that moment was a straight; Nick won roughly two hundred dollars with that hand. The money that has been floating around the table, however, did not seem to favor one mammal specifically; it was being exchanged left and right, with no pattern as to where its future whereabouts would be. Perhaps it would change with this hand. The third river of the night in which he had a valuable hand. At the table? A two of diamonds, three of clubs, a three of hearts, four of clubs, and a five of hearts. What did he have to lose? It was his bet.

The sea of players before him checked; being the last player before the turn went to the dealer, Nick raised the stakes of the game a little bit, something that he seldom did. Without a single word leaving his lips, Nick tossed in two red chips, equivalent to fifty dollars. Nothing incredibly out of the ordinary.

"Fifty dollars. 'Tis your bet, sir," the dealer called out to Bogo. Although somewhat of a distance away, the two were facing across from each other. Nick and Bogo investigated each other's eyes, looking for a weakness. A lie. _A tell_.

After about thirty seconds of silence, Bogo called. The rest of the table folded, except for Nick. The fox, still confident about the two cards he was withholding, raised the stakes to one hundred dollars.

Bogo called as well. In the pot was four hundred dollars – by far the biggest pot of the night. Feeling weary about his chances himself, Nick chose not to risk any more than what he had. Nick called for the river to end.

"Gentlemen, showdown, please," called the dealer.

Flushed with confidence, Nick revealed his two cards fashionably, slapping them on the green table. The entire table, plus a few onlookers, peered in to see what Nick had.

"Straight, seven high. Three to seven," announced the zebra. Nick's hand generated a small round of applause, which he found quite peculiar. It was a hand that was not necessarily powerful, and nevertheless there was not much skill. It was mostly a game of luck, after all.

The crowd of mammals focused an attention towards Bogo, who had yet to reveal his cards. A small grin appeared over his face, something that worried Nick.

 _He's bluffing,_ the muffled voice inside his head said.

Almost in a gesture of torture, he slowly laid down his cards, making the dramatic reveal seem more unnerving to Nick.

 _Don't fall for it._

Bogo revealed the cards that he had, and an even bigger round of applause filled the room. Nick couldn't see the cards, but he knew that a reaction from the audience was no good sign.

"Full house, threes full of twos. The high hand. Masseur Bogo wins."

Nick leaned over the table, astonished. Yet right in front of him was indeed the winning hand: a four of diamonds and a three of spades.

"God dammit," mumbled Nick as Bogo collected his earnings.


	18. Firth of Third: Movement Two

_**Movement Two: After Hours**_

"Anything you want to watch, Carrots?"

"Eeerm…whatever…" slurred Judy. Nick could tell that a few drinks after the match seemed to set lose a buzzed (if not slightly drunk) rabbit.

"Mkay…how about _The Furgitive?_ Looks like it's on channel five!"

"Sure, why not?"

Nick glanced to his left and saw Judy sprawled out across the bed. Even though as still as a rock, she looked like she was locked in some sort of head-spin. No matter the circumstances, she would not let her sights off of the ceiling, which was nothing but a white plane of little detail. Perhaps she was slightly more buzzed than he previously thought. He pulled her in close and began to stroke her cold ears, eventually working his way to her back. He made sure to be careful to not accidentally unclip her bra strap; as beautiful and sexy as she was, tonight was not the night for them to strip out of their underwear. Nick gently rolled Judy onto her back, guiding his finger around the straps and only throughout her back muscles, avoiding any arousing spots on her body. She felt very tense; was she like this all the time whenever she was drunk?

"Mhmm…Nick…you're good at this…" she mumbled through the pillow her head was planted in.

"You think so?"

"Totally."

Nick nearly disregarded what she just said, for he was more focused on the movie playing in front of him; it was one of his favorites. He continued to massage Judy's back for a few more minutes, his focus slowly drifting from her towards the movie. Chances were that she wouldn't even notice him stopping; she'd probably fall asleep in a few minutes.

As he planned, he gently took his paw off her back once around five or ten minutes passed. Hoping that she would be tucked in for good, he rested his paws on his stomach. Laying down, only in his boxers, reminded him of the late nights he used to spend watching movies at his flat in Savanna Central.

"W-why did you stop?" Judy suddenly slurred. It caught Nick off-guard.

"Oh, I'm sorry! Did you want me to continue to massage you?"

"Uh…yah!"

Somewhat frustrated on the inside, Nick obeyed her request and gently began massaging a few knots that he discovered on her back a while ago. Compared to the last session, however, he was much more focused on the movie than Judy's spa treatment. For several minutes, his mind was submerged deeply into the film. The one thing that sent him back towards reality was the one thing he tried to avoid earlier: unintentionally unclipping her bra. He caught the straps falling to her sides, revealing an implant of depressed rabbit fur where the straps used to be. Judy remained somewhat still, her head turned away for him. Nick paused, alarmed as what to do. She didn't seem to respond for a while; did she fall asleep?

"Why did you do…you do that?" she mumbled.

Nevermind.

"Sorry, Carrots. It was an accident. Do you want me to rehook it, or…"

"I kinda like it, actually."

"Y-you like it?"

Nick felt somewhat uncomfortable, and almost contemplated about hooking it without her permission. Before he could even formulate such a plan, Judy interrupted his chain of thought.

She rolled over to his side, exposing her cleavage directly in front of Nick. She seemed to have useful consciousness despite her drunk state, and didn't mind what she was doing.

"Uh…What are you doing, Carrots?"

Judy began to stroke the fur on Nick's chest, drawing circles and various sloppy patterns while working her way southbound.

"Nick…I love you. You…you love me, don't you?"

Nick took a deep breath and gently interrupted her plans of reaching the belt line. He took her arm and gently set it aside; Judy was startled by the gesture.

"I do love you, Judy. But tonight…tonight is not the night for this. I just lost a lot of money, we're both stressed and tired from the game, and I don't think this would make it better. I just don't have the energy, I'm sorry!" he pleaded.

"But Nick…"

"Maybe later, Carrots."

Judy, most likely too impaired to respect Nick's request, thought out a sloppy and inexperienced plan to scratch the itch that her mind blindly felt compelled to do. She fought her drowsiness and gazed into his eyes, which were beginning to drift off to sleep as well. His exhaustion meant that he was falling into a trap that he didn't even know he was in. About ten minutes in, her plan went into action.

Once again, she paralleled her hand earlier by drawing bizarre patterns on his fur. Only this time, she began slightly above his belly button, a much lower starting position. Nick, who appeared to be asleep, did not react to her hand on his body. Judy carefully worked her way south, eventually reaching the line of his boxers. A brief intermission in her formula was met with confusion; the unusual shift of Nick's boxers caught her off-guard. They seemed to move on their own, shifting with some sort of supernatural force. Judy glanced over to Nick's face, only to see a hazy fox trying to contemplate what the hell was going on. She took a deep breath and proceeded, slipping her hand underneath his blue underwear.

"J…Judy?"

"Sorry…I'll sto-"

"No…It's okay. Go on; it…It feels nice…" mumbled Nick.

Judy did as instructed: Once her hand made contact with what resembled _it_ , she returned to one of her basic instincts of life: sex.

Almost automatically, her hand worked like a crankshaft, gently stroking. She worked against friction, making sure to be very gentile and fragile with her movements. A faint but audible reaction from Nick signaled that she was doing something correctly…Or at least she hoped. Without much thought, she continued. Her hand began to work at a faster frequency as his breathing picked up…Faster, faster, faster, faster, until-

"Ah! W…What the hell is this? It feels weird!" cried Judy.

"That…Is called love, you dork," chuckled her companion whom was catching breath. He could clearly see her blushing.

Judy, feeling somewhat ashamed, slipped her hand out, wiped off any residue, and crawled up next to him.

"Hey, no need to feel that way! You do know that all couples do this, right?"

"I…I guess? I'm fucking drunk, Nick. I can't think on my feet right now."

"You're okay, Carrots; Do you want me to return the favor?"

Judy looked somewhat surprised after Nick's offer. It would be the first time that he had offered her the opposite. The first time that he chose to delicately and carefully do what she did to him.

"Y…Yeah."

The language of love took over for the next several minutes. Judy laid still on the bed, just like a mummy. Nick's paws were next, and they slowly began to venture south. They journeyed their way underneath her undergarments, halting at the fragile delicacy of the fork between her legs. He took a deep breath and let his instincts run through him like butter; yielding to his sharp, potentially hazardous claws, he gently slipped in one…then two fingers. A jerking, tense reaction pursued Judy. Was it really true that being drunk made one much more prone to sexual activity?

A rhythmic vibration of his wrist, jerking up and down, was continually met with an enthusiastic an energetic response from Judy. It almost appeared as if he was hurting her - her eyes were closed and her open arm (the other was wrapped around the bedframe) was spread across her chest. Had it not been an arousing experience, Nick could have mistaken her for a rabbit with a bad stomachache by her looks. But she wasn't yelping in pain, nor was pleading for him to stop. Making sure that his claws did not strike her during the act, he continued about his business. The only queues that he picked up on that told him to stop was when her peak was reached. Her audial reactions soared to octaves he'd expect from her. She was not necessarily loud, but more so high-pitched. The only other queue he picked up was the built-up tension being released from the muscles in her body. The kinetic energy flowed out of her as quickly as her breaths did; within seconds, the sexual energy in the room was finally tamed and neutralized.

"How was that?" asked Nick once Judy managed to catch her breath.

"I looove you, Nick!" she exclaimed while kissing him on the lips.

"Love you too, Carrots. What do you say we get some rest? Still got some hands to play at the table tomorrow, yeah?"

"I suppose…C-Could we go gambling a little bit more, though?"

Nick chuckled, but had no choice but to politely decline.

"Sorry, now's not the time. I wouldn't be surprised if the casino was closed anyway," he lied. He felt guilty having to lie to her, but what other choice did he have? Say anything otherwise, and her intoxicated mind would try to persuade him a few more round at the tables.

"Alright, fine. I'll get some sleep."

"Sounds like a plan, sweetie. Good night."

"G'night."

Nick reached up and turned off the lamp. The television that was playing his favorite movie shortly followed. Within minutes, the wiped-out rabbit and fox, both exhausted of sexual tension and juices, drifted off to sleep on top of bed sheets baring a similarity to scrambled eggs with how messy they were. It didn't matter; whenever one was as tired as they were, anything was a perfect bed for sleeping.

Nick's eyes awoke the calm, gentle, and warm rays of sunlight striking his face. It took him a minute for his eyes to open, for they were sealed with a thick layer of sleep buildup. It was again, the same routine: he would encounter this, one of his worst pet peeves, on the morning after drinking. It would then transition to a nasty heartburn (which he already suspected of falling victim to thanks to a burning sensation in his throat), before finally he would drag himself out of bed and reconsider his drinking (and life) choices over a cup of black coffee, double expresso.

He began by rubbing his eyes, slowly working their way open. By the time the cluster of buildup cleared his eyes and he was awake, the first thing he did was leaning over to check the clock on the nightstand beside him. Eleven thirty-two. Nearly cursing himself out, he laid flat on the bed and took a deep breath. The two of them needed to get up. There was an agenda to do today: a little bit of paperwork, a few activities in and outside of the hotel, and of course, the poker night. His second-nature instinct made him gently tug Judy's arm, which was normally right beside him. But all he felt was the cold draft of the air conditioning that sat towards the end of the room when he tried to reach for her. Glancing over, Nick was almost surprised to see that Judy was nowhere to be seen. Not by his side! He sat up and took a quick glance around the room. The effort turned out to be fruitless.

"Judy?" he shouted.

There was no answer.

Now feeling somewhat alarmed, he jumped out of bed and tossed on a nearby pair of jeans that would cover up his boxers. Once they were snugly around his waist, he nervously paced his way through the hotel room, looking for her. He wasn't worried about her leaving, but was focused on why she wasn't beside him; at the very least, she could have told him she was running an errand! Even a note would be sufficient!

The last place that Nick checked was the bathroom. He noticed just before stepping into the cracked doorframe that the light was on. Unusual, since he explicitly remembered turning it off before crawling into bed last night before…that happened. Perhaps was she just using the restroom?

Nick gently knocked on the door, grasping its handle to avoid pushing it open; such an act would be an ultimate awakening of privacy invasion. That was the last thing he wanted to do. After rasping the glossy wood that stared him right in the face, he fell silent, directing his ears towards the slit between the door and the doorframe, listening for a ' _Just a Minute!'_ Or a ' _Busy!'_. What he got instead did little to comfort him.

"Hmmm?" moaned a soft and droopy voice.

"Judy? Is…Is everything okay in there?"

"Hmmm…."

Nick gently opened the door and slowly poked his head in, cautious and curious to see what was going on.

He found Judy, lying down on the cold, barren tile floor beside the toilet. She had her eyes closed and, just like the night before, her hands were tightly wrapped around her abdomen. Her entire body was shivering, and underneath her fur, he felt like he could see very pale and lifeless skin.

"Jesus, Jude…Are you okay?" piped Nick as he burst in like a mother caring for a child. He dashed over beside her.

"N-Nick?"

"Hey, Honey Bun, it's me. What's going on?"

Judy slowly opened her eyes and glanced at Nick. A warm smile filled her face, and she reached an open arm to grasp his paw.

"I've be-been nauseous all morning…Sin-Since five or so…"

A case of the hiccups was bombarding her words. Nick did take notice at how her body would suddenly reflex once every few seconds.

"But you haven't-" he mumbled before being abruptly cut-off.

"No. Not yet, at least."

"C'mon, let's get you in the bathtub. You need a warm bath."

"Mkay…Can you just gi-give me fiv-five more minutes?"

"No, let's go. Here, I'll get you in there."

Even without an audible consent, Nick gently lifted Judy up by the shoulders, grasping her arms in the process. Luckily for him, the bathtub was just a few feet away, and it did not take very much effort for him to gently set her inside the ceramic tub. He barely took notice of the lavish decorations that coated the tub and the tile around it while getting her settled in. Treating her like a baby, he gently removed her undergarments and set them aside. The shivering pursued; she was vibrating more frequently than the old car that Nick used to own. He can recall the day that it rattled, coughed, and stopped for the last time. Just before dying, it was shivering, just like Judy.

"Tub's cold, huh?" remarked Nick.

"Mmmm…."

Nick swiftly leaned over to the other side of the tub. Without thinking, he plugged the drain while turning on a warm stream of water. He let it run between his fingers before allowing it to touch the tub. Tampering with the temperature, he reached a setting which was a steady balance with comfortably warm waters and a coexisting arousal of steam. The strategy seemed to work; glancing back at Judy's face, a relaxing smile melted across her face. Nick monitored her for a couple of minutes before standing up, dusting his paws off.

"How does that feel? Good?"

" _Greeaat!_ " moaned Judy.

"Alright. I'll go down and get you some goodies to make you feel better. I'll be back in a few minutes, alright?"

"Mkay."

Judy kept her eyes closed, allowing the warm stream of water to wrap around her shivering body. It began by crawling up the sides of her back, and eventually began covering her legs and lower body. Each passing minute brought her more relaxation than she could have ever imagined. The energetic steam flowed through the tub like silk; some of it encountered her nostrils and sinuses. The reaction of the steam and her body was very well received. Her headache was much number, and her sore throat and stuffy nostrils began to clear up. The water finally wrapped around her shoulders, compelling her to reach forward to shut off the water. Although somewhat sore and achy, she gathered the muscle to complete the deed. Until Nick arrived, she continued to float in what felt (and seemed) like heaven.

And when he did arrive, Nick brought with him a stockpile of goodies for Judy to enjoy, all of which would cooperate with her first hangover. He quietly entered the bathroom, holding a tray of the materials.

"Knock knock!" he whispered.

Judy opened her eyes and looked straight at Nick.

"Hey you," she commented.

"Look what I've got!"

Nick walked over, right beside her. He set the tray on the closed toilet seat, which was almost within arm's reach for Judy. With her head floating on the water, she didn't even bother to look at what he brought.

"What do you have?"

"Well, how about this?"

Nick handed a cup of some warm liquid. Judy grasped it with both her paws; being bathed in more warmth was a bargain she was willing to take any day. But it was the smell of this warm liquid that was even more enjoyable.

"It's peppermint tea. The folks down in the lobby recommended that to me."

Judy took a small and cautious sip. This tea, while acting as some herbal remedy, could also backfire; one sip too big, or too much at one time, could send it right back up. She didn't know whether to trust her stomach or not at that point. However, the liquid bubbled her tongue and gently glided down into her stomach with ease. The peppermint aftertaste was a pleasant consequence, all complements of the herbal properties of the tea. Judy took another sip, embracing the gentile and warm herbs that soothed her throat and her stomach.

"Mmmm, that's nice," she mumbled.

"I thought you'd like it. I have a few other things for you when that's done."  
"Like what?"

"Carrot cake!"

No two other words in the English language made Judy jump out of her shoes so quickly; one of her most desired and beloved desserts, she immediately jerked to the side, scanning the tray for the delicacy. Sure enough, it was sitting on a small saucer. The caramel-brown, soft, and fluffy cake was garnished with what looked like some powdered sugar and a couple of strawberries.  
"Gimme! I want it!" she cried, lunging over to try and swipe it from the tray.

Nick slapped his hand across hers, preventing Judy from reaching the desired treat. He was meet with a look of disappointment and confusion.  
"No cake for now; you need some fluids before the cake. Trust me; if you eat this thing right now, I wouldn't count on it staying there."

"And how would you know, Mr. Smartass?" Judy snarled.

"I've been in the exact same spot that you're in right now, Carrots. Before I even met you, I can still vividly remember having several drinks too many with Finnick one night. The next morning, while we were hustlin' around like we did back in those days, I made the huge mistake of sucking down several pawpsicles and a couple of donuts. My fragile stomach didn't take it too well, and let's just say that I took the rest of the day off."

Judy groaned.

"But donuts are much unhealthier than this! Carrot cake is a very light treat, it won't do me no harm."  
"It's possible," interjected Nick, "but I don't want to risk it. Last thing I want to do is to keep you here while I'm down at the table tonight, my darling."

"Alright, fine. I'll trust you this time. When can I get the cake?"

Nick reached over to grab the biggest item on the tray: a gigantic pitcher, one which could probably hold up to a gallon of liquid. Inside it were several ice cubes floating in a cloudy-grey solution. Nick went over to the bathroom counter and swiped one of the glass cups that was on display. Walking back, he had an odd-looking smile on his face. Or was it a smirk?

He poured a glass of this mysterious, opaque liquid, making sure several ice cubes accompany it as well. Once the glass was nearly topped off, he handed it to Judy.

"Once you finish this," he said.

"Well, what the hell is this?"

"This, my stubborn bunny, is a solution of water and electrolytes. If you down this entire baby within a few hours, then you'll be feeling much better than you are right now. The water will rehydrate you, and the electrolytes will help to boost some of the toxins and the icky feelings out of you."

Judy cautiously took the glass, feeling disgusted and afraid to drink whatever the heck he was talking about. She held her nose over the solution and took a deep waif, trying to make sense of the liquid. Not one gland in her nose picked up anything out of the ordinary; it smelled just like water. That is, if water had some sort of smell.

"What does it taste like?"

"It may taste a little bit like vitamins, but I had a little sip on the way up, and it's really not that bad. Plus, with your peppermint tea beside you, the electrolytes can be washed down in between sips. Trust me, though. This stuff works."

Judy brought the glass up to her lips, and cautiously took a small sip of the electrolyte solution. A small puddle of the liquid splashed inside her tongue, and she swallowed it instantly. The taste was not necessarily what she expected; instead of being some disgusting, mysterious beverage, it wasn't all that bad. As a matter of fact, it had a slightly sweet taste to it! Judy took another sip, this one being much larger. Again, the water had a slightly sweet, but not all that bad, taste to it.

"Told you it wasn't gonna kill you!" chuckled Nick.

"Oh, shut up."

"Alright, I'll let you be, you dork. Before I go, however, there are a couple more things on this tray. The first is a package of ginger strips. These help an upset stomach and reduce nausea, which I figured would be extremely helpful for you. And finally, saline crackers are here in the back. Not too many, but enough to fill you up with something light until your digestive system gets back on track."

Judy let out a warm smile, which Nick gladly return.

"How did I get to be so lucky?" she asked.

"Well, that's for a completely different story…Let's just say that it was all a hustle."

The two shared a brief chuckle, and Nick allowed Judy to float in the still piping-hot bathtub with her hangover remedies. She really was one of the luckiest rabbits on Earth! Never in her wildest dreams would she imagine that all of these liquids and snacks, especially the carrot cake, would be a satisfying craving for a sickened and hungover rabbit?

Judy took another sip of her tea, washing the subtle and rocky aftertaste of the electrolyte-infused water. She was quite impressed that he was able to run down to the lobby to retrieve all of this; perhaps the hotel was stockpiled with some kind of "hangover kit", in case of dire emergencies like hers. Whatever the case may be, she was happy with it.

Judy spent another hour and a half floating in the tub, her condition improving dramatically as the session went on. Before leaving, Nick put on some relaxing jazz music for her to listen to, thanks to his speaker that he brought with him. Dimming the lights, he let her be. Now, here she was, peacefully floating in nirvana. One by one, she began by slowly eating the ginger that was sitting beside her, taking momentary pauses to wash down the now bland-tasting water and peppermint tea. The strong, spicy ginger brought on a new but relaxing twist to her body; it was almost as if it was hitting a reset button on the spot. She then worked on the saline crackers, which were rather easy to eat when she could simply wash them down with the electrolyte water. By the time she was at around the seventy-five minute mark of her tub session, she had worked her way through about three-fourths of the pitcher of the water.

"Hey, Nick?" she called out from the tub. She had to pipe up, since the door to the rest of the room was completely shut and the music was continuing to play. After crying out to him, she tuned in her ears and listened for him.

"What's up, honey bun?" said a muffled voice after a few seconds.

"Can you come here for a minute?"

She didn't hear a response, but within thirty seconds, the bathroom door slowly peeked open and Nick glided his way inwards.

"What can I do for you?" he asked.

"Well, I was just curious, could I eat the carrot cake now since I finished everything else and three-fourths of that weird water?"

Nick thought about it for a minute, but it did not take very long for him to reach a simple and thoughtful conclusion.

"Yeah, you should be fine. Just go easy on it; we don't want to throw your stomach into a loophole this far in. How do you feel?"

"Much better, it seems that you really are the hangover expert!" she exclaimed.

"Master by experience," he winked.

"Alright, that's all I needed. I'll finish this cake and meet you out there very shortly. Maybe we could…Watch a movie? Take a walk? Say hi to some of the other officers?"

"Yeah, I like the sound of that! Let's discuss details when you get out, okay?"

"If you say so, Slick Nick!"

Nick bent down and gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead, followed shortly afterwards with a warm smile. Before he could retreat his head from the tub, Judy grabbed ahold of his cheeks, and delivered a ripe, pulsating kiss straight on the lips. The act caught him by surprise; not that he was objected to it, however. They shared a passionate exchange for a few seconds, capped with a gentle and soft release. Like always, they giggled afterwards, just like a pair of young lovebirds should always do.

"I'll see you in a few, babe," said Nick while rolling his eyes.

"Bye!"

Nick jettisoned out of the bathroom once more, closing the door and allowing Judy to soak in the tub by herself once again. He walked over to the TV and fiddled with the remote, scanning the channels of the TV upon turning it on. All he wanted was a good movie that the two could share together as she progressed in her health. After all, she deserved the treatment that she gave him when Nick was in the hospital. Nick touched the scar that was beginning to coat itself in fur. It seemed quite odd that with each and every passing second, the scar was healing, or rather vanishing.

On channel 218, Nick encountered Giraffic. Never before has he seen it, especially with the recent and fresh release of it (most likely due to Weaselton's bootlegging causing the release to go viral). Luckily for him, the channel broadcasting the movie was replaying it for the entire day; stumbling upon the scrolling credits was all but a case of perfect timing.

"Hey Carrots, I found a movie we might like! Hurry up, it'll start in just a few minutes!" he cried out.

"I'll be there shortly!"

Nick tossed the remote on the lone bed in the room and lunged forward, belly-flopping onto the freshly-made sheets that he dressed earlier that morning. Once he made himself cozy, Nick checked to see if any new messages began appearing on his phone. It was rather uncommon for him to check so sparingly; the last time he had his phone in his hand was nearly two hours ago, when he began cleaning up the room and grabbing the hangover remedies for Judy. To his surprise, he had _four_ voicemails from Benjamin Clawhauser. Tucked underneath that notification were six text messages. It was almost alarming to see so many notifications from him, and Nick poured in to investigate. Why did he put his phone on silent and non-vibrating earlier? Would a subtle buzz or a couple cheesy jingles really disturb Judy that much?

The voicemails seemed to spell out an eminent sign, so he began by listening to each and every one of them cautiously.

' _Hi Nick, it's Ben. Just wanted to give you a quick heads-up that the Casino wants to investigate Bogo. They noted on the surveillance tapes from last night that he seemed to be acting in very odd ways around the table, but it's still unclear on what exactly unfolded. They are continuing to investigate and don't have any evidence, so as of now he will still be participating in the rest of the tournament per the Casino's policy. Just thought I'd let you know. I'll call you back with any more detail. Out.'_

Nick erased the first voicemail, feeling somewhat curious and almost surprised at the Chief's behavior. Was he really going into desperate measures to win this tournament? It would make sense, considering he needed to pay back the ones who were staying quiet. Nick then proceeded to listen to the second voicemail.

' _Hey Nick, it's me. Sorry to bug you again. Word got out that the security here at the hotel brought the Chief in for questioning, as they seem to have reason to believe that he was some sort of casino shark last night. We still don't know how he did it and how he managed to do it without the undercover agents noticing it, but he may face consequences if convicted. Talk to you later.'_

"Hey, Judy?" cried out Nick.

"Give me a minute, I'm almost out."

"You might want to come here, this is important."

"Kay, I'll be there soon!"

Nick deleted the second voicemail, moving onto the third.

' _Clawhauser again. The security released Bogo, for he must have had some convincing alibis to what was going on. He did look quite distressed when some of our fellow officers saw him in the hallways earlier. Don't know what to make of it, but something just doesn't seem right.'_

The fourth voicemail sent shivers down Nick's spine.

' _Nick, where the hell are you?! Why aren't you answering?! We've got a serious problem here, Bogo got into an argument with Fangmeyer down in the lobby, and his temper escalated so quickly that he was detained, and the security are once again questioning him. I didn't witness the argument in person, but Delgado told me that it was about escaping, or being a coward. We don't know what to make of it, but we're going to need you to…Uh…help us settle things down if you can. I'm in the security office with a couple other officers. Please call back ASAP.'_

Just as the tape cut out, Judy arrived from around the corner, wrapped in a bath robe and looking much more replenished. All she saw on Nick's face was a hazy, pale shade of white underneath his fur. It stopped her dead in her tracks.

"Hey, Nick. What's the issue?" she gently asked him.

"It's…It's Bogo."

"Bogo? What about him?"

It didn't take long for Nick to understand what was going on. Arguments? Stress? Pressure? Talks about leaving? Did this mean that he is planning on-

"Judy…I don't think Bogo is hosting this tournament to replenish his debts…" he mumbled, "I think he's scraping together as much money as he can to get out of town."

"He's doing what?!"

"He's…He's abandoning us."

Silence.

' _Coward,'_ Nick thought.


End file.
